My Louhi

We sat in the room, old lights dimly flickering

The oval table adorned with pockmarks from gold rings

Walls that hid secrets like a well visited speakeasy

I listened to their complaints, begrudgingly

Each with their own axe to grind, vengeance to have

Different in their roots, common in their target

                  -Her

When they were done, I let the walls absorb the words

The dry air soak up the sweat stained emotion

Allowed the silence to linger, force discomfort

                  -She was too big for them

I spoke softly, but with depth and sincerity in my voice

A low gravel tone like a whisper from the grave

You are all hammers, when what you need is a drill

                  -She is too strong for you

Their collective anger was poorly shrouded

Animosity flowed, like the liquor years before

They despised me, because they knew I was right

                 -She left the scar to prove it

Instinctively I rubbed the raised “S” curved skin

Deep purple in color, mocking me incessantly

Of how that “S” could be white and gray

                 -She wanted another shot

Years before, in midnight blue ink

An inscription was needled over that scar

A message for the soul who opens me up the last time

To them he said, firm in tone

This deed I will do, and me alone

For you are all hammers denting a door

Forged of strength, seen nevermore

She is unmatched, her mold lost forever

To get to her, you must be deceitful and clever

Two tools in your kit as there is no key

A drill and time is all I need

Pressure and consistency will see me through

To one of two places – inside to glory or back here to you

(North Wales, PA)