i.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s hard to hide my fangs.
I’ll hiss and snarl and spit the blood
of those who trespass against my land.

ii.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s not that hard to understand.
I cannot be tamed or caged or chained,
I am the alpha of the pack.

iii.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and there is no strength I lack,
but hiding and camouflaging
with the sheep
does not make my fur more black.

iv.
most days I am more
wolf than woman,
and you’ll find me bathe
underneath the moonlight.
in the slightest of mannerisms
you’ll discover, it’s not that
easy for me to hide.
hunting and guarding and marking
until the weary day turns to night.
in the way, that I tread the land
these claws covered by a pretty coat
and smiling- hah, no that’s the
predator baring her fangs to show you
how it’ll dig into your throat.

more wolf than woman | shevaun stonem

I,
Want to be alone.
I,
Want to be at home, I,
Know I can't go now no matter how much it grows,
The pain...

It shows it's face time and time again to make me pace back and forth to forget what was said and cut the cord or where and who I am!

...

who am I?
and why.


-

I'd,
Rather go hungry than speak to someone right now,

i'm starved.
I'm starved...
I'M ******* STARVING for a piece of this peace that it seems that everybody but me can just pick up and breathe....

But I can't see me...
So how could I possibly know...

this time in Vienna
in my little nation's capital

a young Muslim still in search of himself
believes he has a mission
to **** as many infidels as possible
to avenge insults to Mohamed
and Allah by all those secular Westerners

armed with attack rifle  handgun & machete
he shoots his way through the Vienna party mile
not knowing whom he attacks
killing four  wounding twenty-three
driven by his duty to defend Allah

never questioning why the Almighty would ever need
to have his infinite greatness defended
by a confused youngster's shooting of innocents

Preface:
Was it all took a speech?
Then there were the threats, then there were the deaths.
…
Was it all due to S. P memorial?
14 day ago…


“Drop drop’ red rain sliding, 
In the back street during his morning walk.
Father Ian paced steadily, it was a grey morning,
early November.

Imagined dialogues
Occur in mind, 
a rendezvous with himself 
Hauled suddenly from solitude,

'How now,' Father Ian addressed the empty hall
Counting there, 9 times knives 
Attacked marks, smelling of burning anger.
This was how the school hides indiscriminate ******.

“Fight fight?”  against blue pallor,
Of hell, and not the fiery part.  

'Knives knives,' Father Ian mocked with an Atlas shrug,
'Don't I warn you to stop those ridiculous fables.
In silence, they come alive,
Of dusted harps or gnawing fear:  Simply tells

'What mission?', questioned from Father Ian, 
“Mind as the host, what just epilogue 
Would these too hollow to be chased?’
What flawed earth-flesh could cause this saddened pass?

'There sits no higher court
Than man's transparent soul’.

Attack, Attack, shocked, Father Ian cried
'Can‘t they run and hide, to get inside
Like a last storm-crossed leaf?  Best ghost swore to the priest:
Why again knives, carried at Paris and Nice?

I went down to the shore one night to see if I could see the sea.
But there was nothing but darkness blowing in the breeze.
I could not hold a candle to the fury of the night.
I could not seem to see the sea crashing in with might.
All I felt was Darkness falling down on me.
The heaviness brought me to a point down upon my knees.
I begged her for forgiveness if there was anything I could do.
She said there's not a thing, this is the end for you.
That's when the wind picked up and I staggered to my feet.
I caught one more fleeting glimpse of the Blackness from the sea.
It took all I had to muster every inch of fight.
To stand against the queen of Darkness dancing in the night.
She threw a blow a glancing hit that push me towards the sea.
I drew back made my attack and brought her to her knees.
She stumbled down to the ground and slid Into the Night.
I said is that all you got you ***** I've got some more to fight.
Yes you may be Darkness you may have yourself some heart.
But I am, the divider of your ways, the bringer of the light.
You Thought I was a peasant, but, you are no match for me.
So now I banish all your soul to Hell below the deep blue eternity.

when I was asked to talk
about my trauma,
I opened up again and
let the words spill out.

I didn't tell them how
badly it burns when
they come back up.

I talked about depression,
about feeling alone,
about attempting suicide.
I talked about deaths
and pain and everything
that I have witnessed.

and then I began to
talk about my assault,
and the men who still
haunt my dreams.

I started by saying,
"the first time I was *****..."

I paused there.

I realized I said
"the first time"

meaning there was
more than one time.

there was more than
one hospital visit,
more than one police report,
more than one court case
that went nowhere.

there is more than one
****** still walking free,
living his life and not caring
that he ended mine.

I said it so ******* casually,
the same way you'd make
small talk about the weather.

I said it like it was normal.

I suddenly felt nauseous.
I needed to spit out more
than just my words.

I spent the next hour
hunched over a toilet bowl.
I think that my body was
trying to ***** the memories
out of my system.

I said it like it was normal.

I said it like it was
an everyday occurrence,
like it's something
you hear about daily
and no one bats an eye.

I said it like it was normal.

I felt so sick, like
I had been poisoned.
I climbed into bed and
didn't get up for days.

I said it like it
was ******* normal,

and the worst part was
when I realized it is.