Ebony skin glistens
Stretched taut over hard muscle
An arm raises above a dreadlocked head
Sunlight glints across the razor-sharp machete edge
Thick lips pull back in a sharp grin
Just as razor-sharp as the weapon
A bloodcurdling cry bursts forth from deep in the throat
As the machete drops with deadly accuracy.
Eyes black as onyx sparkle
With fire from the abyss.
Oya, Goddess of Winds, Lady of Storms, will not be denied.