The Voyage of Self-Discovery

Today’s prompt included writing a Glosa form of poetry.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
- Invictus, by William Ernest Henley

Here’s my attempt at a Glosa:

Windswept curls falling over the shoulder,
black eyelashes drowning
behind the glistening eyes and the veil of composure,
lives a strong woman - standing;
Lives - than merely exists of late,
Swims through the uncertainties, her weight
she carries across channels of deterrents,
unwavering - as she hustles on and on.
With the resolve of persistence painted on her slate,
It matters not how strait the gate.

Swims ashore to build her ship - 
The ship that'll conquer all the promises - 
Promises - often broken, or worse still forgotten
on the dawn of the 'morrow after the vows exchanged;
The ship that'll envisage the voyage,
the journey to her purpose, her goal,
that'll expect nothing and from no one
as it carves the path to her destination.
It matters not then, as long as she's true to her whole,
How charged with punishment the scroll.

Built with rings of steel and the strength
of her bones, she fights
the stormy waves of disappointment and nostalgia
and the tempest of her insecurities
and while thousand nautical miles from land
with no shore in sight, she offers as bait
her unforgivable plight - 
to the winds that howl and circle
as she determines in her wake - 
I am the master of my fate.

And as she grabs the reins of the sails
fluttering against the assault of the winds - 
much like her heart against the bleak reality that rings
constantly, like a mundane drum pounding within - 
she lets her stoicism snap like a whip
as her starry vehemence starts to take a toll
on her well-hidden, unspoken vulnerabilities,
shattering them to unveil her wondrous soul;
and she roars, as she recognizes her entitled role - 
I am the captain of my soul.

– Rutuja R.

NaPoWriMo – Day Three