Blue Dragon — SHE.
Embodying the fullness of ME in what became a one-word poem.

SHE I began…
The room dissolved into awkward silence.
I dared to speak one word SHE.
Did I say something surprising?
Yes. I. Asked. The. Question. Out. Loud.
They squirmed in visible discomfort. Many furrowed brows attempting to grasp the cognitive dissonance; perceptions of power… Dragon — WOMAN — Poem.
Traumatic brain injury Disability Chronic illness Rare disease Lord help me Fatness!
SHE.
Human. Moulded through the fractal path of descent.
TheoArtist, some kind of Theologian… Who does SHE think SHE is? Still…
SHE.
The DRAGON… they stuttered Its power… they muttered We just assumed… fumbling tumbling trying to find words just as I struggle to flatten colorful complexity into linear language.
SHE.
I affirmed with what became a one word poem.
THE FEMININE story told in layers a mirror of hours passed; bubbled jewels dancing with decades of ineffable harmony; opaque windows into crystalline moments where each individual SHE learned that it was not HER fault.
BLUE DRAGON slowly emerged from the hermit shell SHE contorted squeezed starved and fractured herself into to stay small contained acceptable for him grandeur is for him dragons are masculine.
BLUE DRAGON FEMININE
Who would want a mighty SHE? I DO.






