Reclaim

She doesn't walk in beauty,
like the night.
She struts, magnificent,
in the black floaters
that are slightly large for her feet.
She's capable of raising hell
with a frown or a stare.
Her thoughts are not
always serene,
their dwelling place
sometimes bloody dark.
When she smiles,
it's not soft:
she smiles without holding back.
She was meant to be
_subtle_
but she couldn't.
Her earrings were always too big,
her lipstick too dark,
bindi too prOminent,
thoughts too vulgar,
words too imposing,
actions too bold,
and her mind, too dangerous.

Alors,
she was learning,
that she didn't walk in beauty,
like the night.
She was the sun,
fire that the world couldn't do without.