We refer to her as The Fierce One.
But how would she know, if it was
a name spoken only in secret? Behind her back
it is whispered, not in jealousy as gossip,
but out of veneration. A sort of silent awe
which traverses social circles and falls
like a sudden hush whenever she approaches.

So how would she know the curvature
of her bones resembles sharp knives
hidden beneath her skin taut? In any
instant she could brandish a sword,
or three swords, and reach forward for
our throats before the air could even be
pulled into our lungs in a gasp.

So how would she know her
omnipresent glare chops up our insides
and serves it like a sous chef might?
Staring for more than thirty seconds may
cause permanent loss of vision.

So how would she know of crooked
cartilage in her nose, making her
expression all the more daunting?
Does she know of our fear regardless?
Does she know that through our fear
there can be found an ounce of love
which might try to show itself if we weren't so afraid?

How would she know her toothy grin
shines light for the dark December nights?
Could she know that her touch can always
heal those she may have inadvertently blinded?

She has gifts only the high chime of
her laughter could ever reveal.
I assume she does not need to be told.
She is The Fierce One, after all.
But should we tell her anyway?