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.