For the Women

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There is not one of us

Who does not need the rest,

Who can stand apart

And carry the world

In this way, on her own.

She knows this.

It is the divine feminine

In her speaking,

Knowing she is not

Ever speaking alone.

She has worked hard,

She has made it

To the mountaintop,

She sits, not weary, but ignited,

Each strand of hair

Spilling down to the oceans

Ready to fly where

She is needed,

So that she can wrap

All the suffering beings

Into her embrace,

And soothe, and protect,

And nurture, and love.

And love them.

As she herself, loves,

Is loved in return.

The time has come;

This is the age of Woman,

Which is the age

Of us all, finally,

The age of stopping

To see out of our lonely

Pockets of isolation,

To come together,

Sisters and brothers,

To see the world softly,

To breathe the world deeply,

To love, to love, to love.

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To My Sisters (After the March)

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To my sisters

who took the world

Into the palm of their hearts

 

Who took to

The streets with their

Wild and pure determination

 

Who never stopped

Listening to the moon’s cycles

As they birthed their own revolution

 

(and it is only just beginning)

 

Who march forward

With a solidarity that is

Bringing us into the future

 

Of equity and equality

For our sisters, mothers and daughters,

For our brothers, fathers and sons

 

Who will not be silenced.

Who will not be silenced.

Who will never be silenced. – TS