I am tired of fighting;
the warrior in me is no longer cozy.

All these years, I raged
against fools, bellowed
creed in the street—

fed the fires,
locked down, suited up,

lead the girls into battle
by the skin of our feet.

They know my name.
Wait….is it…Athena
or Don Quixote?

What is it we are fighting for?
These days, my heart aches
with questions.

I am tired of looking for
walls to break down.
I am tired of fighting.

The warrior in me is
no longer cozy.

The child in my heart
sits gaunt and lonely.

Julia Daye