Saint Margaret

That year was the year
I fought my way
out of a dragon.

Let me start:
I grew up banished to strangers
outside Antioch.

When I had to,
I chose purity
over expediency.

That explains the dungeon.

But not the tiny exquisite pain
in my fingertip
nipped by the green devil,
emerald-eyed, ashimmer.

That was my own story.

That year was the year
I let the devil swallow my body
into darkness.

That I gave my own breath
for the dragon’s flame.

That year was the year
that let me
sense light
through the belly.

A year
that faith
made sharp
my cross.

That year was the year
that I fought my way
out of a dragon.

That I sliced
through the
thick skin
severing scales
that fell away
like tossed coins
and crawled out
one toe at a time.

By the time I breathed
my own breath again,
and drew my soul
back in,
the dragon
was split
and wilted
at my feet,
temptless,
but for the
glitter
of white teeth.

– Copyright Kay Winter
written New Year’s Day, 2016

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2 thoughts on “Saint Margaret

  1. bookman10 says:

    Very powerful Kay. I love that you have found your voice and it is so beautiful. I am grateful that you are willing to share it. I know where this comes from and it is exposing an unseen part of ourselves.

    • odhran25 says:

      Thanks, Don! I tried to weave my own experiences and the story of Saint Margaret (a long fascination) with universal experiences of times in our lives when we struggle to fight ourselves out of dragons.

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