The pea soup tentacled fog
That was (and is) a bad dream
Wrapped inside a nightmare
Which swallowed whole her life
Thins in wake of
Swooshing determination
She strides head up to the podium
(Later, surreally televised clip
Confirms strength of step)
Dares to harness
Her voice
Quavering yet poised
In measured cadence
With heartfelt emphasis
She dauntlessly projects
Her story
Mortifying and human
Audaciously asserting
Rising from
Smothering depths of
Cloistering shame
Her truth
This nightmare chapter
Will not be
All she wrote
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