The Face of Justice is neither kind,
Nor warm nor compassionate. She has no rage, no passion,
Only the cool air of detachment.
Some call her harsh,
An alien being that knows no attachment,
In the final moment her blade severs through the cord,
There is a deafening silence.
No Joy, No Victory, No Grief, No Trauma,
An abstraction slicing through the messy world,
As metal meets the flesh, as mind meets the cord,
The deed is done, the scales rebalanced,
The world begins to stir awake.
Neither numb nor dead to her emotions,
She finally reveals her face,
Her one true form,
Her reason for being...
She is Love.
~ Bairavee Balasubramaniam, PhD
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