The Fear

Her eyes are no more searching, the lips are pursed in view
To see what she has achieved, the picture how it has come true
The mind is weak and hurting, the aches and madness is wearing
The nose is cold as frost, the toes and tips are numb, not cold
The trickles are blood, clot and froze, the clothes are dirty and torn
The feat she sought stands tall, not much her chest, but the eyes have swolled
The war, is long but done, a battle just won, much lost more won, no...
No, this is not enough, the wound has to mean more, her life has to see more
The heir is all but strung, her fight is all but done, the wind is all but burnt
Her life is wrought, her mind is bogged, her wrists are purple, her hair is crumbled
Yet the tears have not dried, pale as the winter sky, her fight has not yet died
Like a Phoenix she will rise,  up the trees and the hills, burning those that defy
Her war is long drawn, another battle beckons bold, the nostrils flare,  the shields go up
She runs, shouting and screaming, streaming to be our lore.