(Poem) Babe in the Woods

Note: This is my poem about a divorce that a close my friend of mine went through and how positivity and opportunity can come out of something seemingly hopeless and tragic.  The ending is, somewhat, left up for interpretation.  
It means something specific to me, but I wanted the reader to come to their own conclusion.  Please feel free to share your take on it.

Babe in the Woods

-That fog of dawn was rare, indeed.
-Yet, it could not impede her risk to take.
-With confidence partial to her steed,
security in its bravery she did make.

-Such a pale dawn’s gallop destined for the wood
scoped her pupils and surged the veins.
-She’d channel chilled winds through nostrils and red hood
just to preserve her youth as unchained.

-Though the morn cloaked as any,
it’s thick midst would mask beast that lay.
-Competition of the wood never dreamed of this many.
-Of creature and man, their full was plenty.
-For, the pack’s heavy count stood built to slay.

-She mocked their offered swords—
too many instances to count. But, they’re few of adequate innocence to state her blame.
-Terror in the A.M. would be her reward.
-Now, her horse would be forced to live to her acclaim.

-Frolicking past such a resting heap
meant this party was conceived as meat.
-Her animal’s true nature commenced its seep.
-Brawny muscles and pearly coats disguised his deceit.

-The incisor punctures let salvia sink,
‘til white fur and white dress both faded to pink.
-In cowardice passion, he bucked free of saddled links.
-His screaming drowned the facts of her fling; he thundered to mediocrity,
leaving her body to stink.
-She fights with branch in hand even as her poise shrinks.

-And, how could these canines’ tackle not spell doom?
Because, intentions lye different in another pursuer’s scope.
-A migrant hunter—chasing the chase—caught site at first distress to let his security loom.
-His assertive arrow and sailing sword shifted to works of her hope.

-He’d glimpses of her elegance between his slash and thrusts,
but premised no lure ‘til they spewed, yelped, and fled.
-A greater lust to mend her slices and cuts–
her longevity reigns as his agenda instead.

-And, in the deepest of shock, she first clawed his eyes.
-His patience shook, but
he knew she’d mistake you as beasts no matter the face.
-He’d forethought she’d grow to long rides and an embrace.
he knew of her repute from lands of the wise.
-And, still, her compliance required his sword at her side
the whole journey…
as he carried her to deathless space.

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All Entries, Featured Poetry, Strictly for Lovers, The Work Required for Relationships

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