Freedom Wars

Freedom Wars

In a whirlwind of silver magic
She left behind her friends and family
Anaya – she who is completely free
The beginning of freedom she would be

Menaces from dark mountain tops
Threatened the magic called Horse
The Wild Things told her the purpose
They set for her a lonely course.

Pure of heart and free of fear
The color of the December sun
To fight, to push, and persevere
Anaya, the strong, the free one

Consumed by green-eyed jealousy
Bellalyse, strong as an ocean wave
Part of her soul she gave away
The one she loved for to save

She watched the magic within
Anaya, growing stronger each day
She watched her beloved Zenith
From her, steadily pulling away

The hold that she once had on
the souls in her jealous care
Slipping, slowly away from her
She reached for things not there

Only part of her soul remained
Bellalyse was no longer free
Imprisoned by her need for power
And by her own jealousy

Endroit Dans la du Soleil calls
For the pure of heart, the strong
There is no place for the selfish
Who use their powers for wrong

Bellalyse longed for her beloved Zenith
Sacrifices, any, she’d make for him
Anaya’s life meant nothing to her
She’d destroy her on a whim

Anaya didn’t have the strength
To fight Bellalyse’s deathly hold
Before Anaya loomed the end of life
It was empty, dark, and cold

The Horse With The Silver Eyes
Zenith, sworn to protect his herd
Anaya’s cries of pain and fear
Were not to go unheard.

The Horses With The Silver Eyes,
Anaya, Zenith – beginning, end
They fought with the strength of a thousand
They moved with speed of wind

And in the fury of the battle
Was born a special, magic colt
On his face he bore a special mark
A stark-black lightning bolt

To finish the war and bring peace
To Endroit Dans la du Soleil
This magical colt was born
The color of a golden sun ray

Anaya whispered into his ear
His most prized possession, a name
It whispered of happiness, peace
Of green grass, of ruby rain

If you close your eyes tightly
The wind seems to whisper to you
His name, it says, oh so softly
Of his destiny, it holds a clue

Hold your breath and listen
Picture a flash of black and gold
His name – Troika – means ‘freedom wars;
The proud, the true, the bold’


That is the second part of the poem trilogy. I love the name Troika. It makes me think of a warrior. I just found the blog of Rachel Danielle which I am particularly excited about. She’s hoping to get a book contract this summer, same as me, which is cool.

A girl my mom met, her name is Victoria, says self-publishing is the only way to go now. She had her books printed by Morris Publishing. I’m looking into that, too, although I’d rather be picked up by a publisher. I’m trying to come up with ways to get my name out there. Anyhow, we’ll see what happens.