Milady of Samothrace
(Winged Victory)
If you could now move,
every time,
at the same time,
there would be a lightning strike,
somewhere.
And no one would dare
a thought in any attempt
to dissuade you
from the pride
in your not-to-be denied
stride.
Having cascading adornment and
soaring adoration in remembrance
of gutty warrior spirits who
sheltered under your wings.
I hear your message and
translate your ancient tongue,
as if it was my own.
For its hurrahs
and the large clew that it spreads
at your feet.
Pounding out
the sound
of felling victory
in each crushing step.
You needed to have gone on before,
in order to be here today.
Bringing more visions, milady,
than I can count.