Her triumphant tears

He dragged himself like a sack of cement

He made himself the ridicule of onlookers.

The green glass of intoxication has been his haven for ages

It was his friend, his weapon, his woe

She, on the other hand, was the enemy, the victim

As urchins clustered like fishes in a sardine can, their eyes were wild with fear.

Fear of the resounding bursts of the gunpowder

Fears of the hunger that was to come

Fears of the intoxicated

She, the protector of her urchins, the Queen Esther of her time

Bares her back for the slashing

Stretched her robe for the taking

Her urchins are her pride, she would guard them with her last blood

She would shield them with her life

The intoxicated, once her love, now her loathing

She longs for rescue

Her silent screams are constantly rebuffed

When will the circle of life align for her?

She needs her Angel Michael!

Now! More than ever, she needs to scream triumphant through the tears of torture.

This story is submitted in response to sharing our arts-Poetry to painting.