Beneath her skin, she sees the film
She knows she’s far from being free
She tries to hear, listen so clear
But there are no sounds in the air
Whether she looks or shuts her eyes
She never sights any sight.

In between the words she writes
She hides her true intention
She sees through her frailty
But she comprehends the universe
She sees the longing in infant eyes
She hears the hunger in their voice
And prays to heaven to win the fight.

She hopes the cross the Pacific
For the feeble, weak and soft
She hopes to tread the valley
For the frightened and afraid
She knows the sword that kills the owl
And hopes to strike in time genuine
But while she soars and flows atop
The fire boils, heating a controversy.


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