there is a war being waged on my desk right now

she looks like a Zulu warrior priestess but her hands are empty.  they are balled into strong yet loose fists and one of them looks like it should be holding a spear.  it has that cylindrical gap like an action figure that comes with all those interchangeable weapons, perpetually ready to grasp on to something.  like we all are trying to do.  but she has that white face paint, and that heaving armor over her breasts.  she held someone's spongy lungs in her hands today and she directed the tribe onward with her wisdom today.  fearless in the skirmishes of intellect, wooden shields chinked with the weak attempts at her unshakable mettle.  i am so fucking glad she is on my side because all i can do is stand here and try to capture it all in a way that still allows me to be afraid of things like my own reflection.