THIS WOMAN IS SHAMAN

Night is strong like hands playing the harp.
Where a subtle voice breathes genuinely,
Into an unknown wonder; then creates a sharp
Silver blade to carve clay into raw beauty.

Oh! Shaman alleviates lavender darkness,
For she smiles; appreciates the hues of a pink candle's flame.
Courage opens her eyes like when sharks bless...
Mother Ocean depths for simplicity and world fame.

This shaman greets soul with cynical empathy and ease,
For she is cautious of any master-like manipulation;
Then from life's moments, she cannot believe...
How respect takes time to acknowledge the female "perception."
Though this woman is a shaman who will always dream.

Shaman wanders helplessly,
But finds hope near an auburn Redwood tree.
Intense red anger drives herself, but with a patient
blue sense to be Free,
And enhancing heartfelt moments of damn good glory.

No green ocean can obliterate her amazing mind.
Nor anyone hold her, literally, down.
For this woman is shaman; laughs and grieves through time,
And Will does pollinate a seed for growth, respect;
the Queen's crown.

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