UNSEEN WARRIOR

UNSEEN WARRIOR, by Marlane Quade Cook

 

Unseen
She clutches her un-named weapon close
Her gaze to the grim sky, frost-sleeted from dawn to twilight.
Crouching, resting, unseen in the shadows
unseen though she should stand
and call upon herself the wrath of an army’s horde.
Unseen, unknown
Warrior woman, she calls herself.
Warrior-maiden until wed
But no other warriors see her here,
see only shadow and fog though she fells the enemy by their sides.

 

She is invisible to the mighty: males clad in strength:stoic.
Grim faces squint toward an unseen dawn.
See their power lurking beneath their skin…
They will not see her, not they. To them she is a frailty,
a protectorate.
If they saw her, they would hide her behind their shields,
sinewy arms outstretched,
legs planted like pillars on the earth.
Not they.

 

Not the would-be amazons,
from them she is forever hidden,
almost one, long ago,
now they see nothing in her,
perhaps a vague chill as she drifts by

 

Unseen.

 

I am a warrior, beyond their eyes,
their sight cannot behold my conquest,
their minds are fixed in this shadowy world.
I stand among my slain, turn my eyes up to the sleet,
and joyfully open my teeth to the cold rain.
I know the sun beyond the gray
no veil can hide him forever.
I will not always be hidden from their eyes.

Warrior woman,
Maiden once,
Now longing for my mate
My strong one–I search for him
among the ranks–invisible warriors are we all
Not of this shadow world
Where are you, my love?
I, weary with longing,
wait for you to fight by my side.
I glimpse you in the strong ones,
The shelter of my supposed weakness
I fade into your world, I am trapped here still,
though the heart pounding within me for victory
would leave this world of illusions.
I long to show you the legions of light
If only I could see
or show.
Fading, always–unseen.
Except by their blazing eyes
and then I shrink in wonder
longing to fight alongside their burning ranks.
If only you would come.

 

Unseen,

 

Here, but not here,
I clutch the nameless weapon in silence
and crouch in shadow,  feeling the mist
and icy rain.
I wait among the dead.
I am waiting.
Come to me.

 

________________________________________

Marlane spent most of her teen and adult life as a visual artist, a few years pursuing jazz and ballet dancing, and entirely too much time getting a simple Associate’s Degree in English. She married, had children, and moved on to ballet teaching, still managing an occasional painting in the wee hours of the morning.  She slowly succumbed to a disabling connective tissue disorder, which was eventually diagnosed as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS).  Forced to abandon the easel and teaching studio for a stack of supportive pillows, she desperately needed an outlet for her creativity.  She found this mostly through a laptop.

Creative writing kept her inspired and focused during a long recovery from surgery and a skirmish with cancer. Her husband Jonathan, an Army veteran and fellow writer, sticks with her through it all:  doing a full share of child rearing and becoming his wife’s caregiver when needed.

Still busy raising and homeschooling her two children, ages 8 and 6, Marlane is fighting to increase her mobility. Goals for the future include her art, and the volunteer directorship of a children’s dance/;performance program.  She is also determined to once more hike through the woods of Montana with her family.