Born of loving parents, adored and cherished, Josielle was.
Beautiful golden hair and sea green eyes, her skin soft and fair.
A childhood of happiness and plenty, she was loved by all.
Until the day the warriors came.

Just a child playing in the woods looking for some berries.
Smells, the smoke drifting through the air, she begins to worry.
Running home to see if maybe one of the barns has caught fire.
Sprinkling berries along the way.

Hearing screaming she slows down and cautiously moves forward.
Peering out from behind the trees, she sees the brutal fighting.
Shivering with fear, her knees a shaking, she looks for family.
Weeping, tears fall down her face.

Seeing her mother, guarding her younger brother with a broom.
Watching her struck down, hard across the neck with a pike.
Screaming, shrieking, crying out, she runs toward her family.
Falling, tripping, grabbed roughly.

Thrown down upon the ground, bound with rope about the neck.
Whimpering, drawn on shaking feet, taken with the rest.
Small children, young women, younger men, all that is left.
Josielle’s small village lies empty.

Silent marching, but for a few whimpers and running tears.
Josielle looks forward, staring ahead, one foot in front of the other.
On and on, seeming to never stop, frightened beyond belief.
No thoughts of escape from her.

Suddenly a commotion, up ahead sounds of metal upon metal.
Rescuers in the form of green clad ranger elves, forest warriors.
Ropes cut, children running everywhere, arrows flying in the air.
Josie runs between fighting opponents.

Suddenly a sword blade springs out in front of her, to fast to stop, SLICE.
Cut down from hairline to jaw, perfectly centered between her right eye.
Blood covered face, blinded, no more running, just falling down.
Quietly she lays there, fallen.

Gentle hands lift her, tenderly tending her wound, soft words of comfort.
Not a sound, not a whimper, deeper and deeper she falls within.
Darkness, dreams, faint whisperings of times past, sudden light springs.
Awareness followed by pain, intense.

Waking up to darkness, bandages all wrapped about her head, in pain.
Josie cries out sharply, deeply afraid, of what has befallen her now.
Voices softly soothing her, bandages removed, she can see clearly.
Relief flows through her, suddenly.

Forever Josielle will wear her scars, inside and out, there is no doubt.
But soon the strangers are friends, the physical pain ceases to be.
Hope takes hold of her as she learns to be free, rangers as family.
No longer a child is she.

Born of loving parents, adored and cherished, Josielle was.
Beautiful golden hair and sea green eyes, her skin soft and fair.
The scar that marks forever her pain, will never leave her face.
A reminder of her youth.

I wish that I could say that we all have a gentle time of growing.
That life was always a happy thing, but ‘tis not always.
There goes hand in hand, happiness with pain.
It is up to us to go through it finding our way through the light, the dark, and the misty gray.