I watch a backdrop of raging flames
bundles of crackling faggots
the Thunderous wind generated
by the Heat of eight million women
rising in great Billowing black clouds
*
Distant wails for the mother, sister, wife,
and a Hardening
of the spirit in those who Survive
*
A Deadened silence creeps before the roaring fire
only to Release from its fumes single women
distinguishing themselves in a New world
fabricated by men. The lonely individuals
become many, until I see my own Grandmothers
walking towards me, one upheld by the Steel
of her Choices, the other crippled by hers.
From the Ashes of their Ancestors, the painstakingly
slow but necessary demand for Repairs.
*
Stepping into the history of my condition
I step into the Sacrifice made by millions
of Women for their descendants,
from the Wreckage, the Burgeoning
of ancient wisdom put to Sleep for centuries,
kissed long enough, it Awakens,
stretches its limbs and with deepened
but ready Eyes, meets the carrier
of its Continuance.
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