When our insides are out,
Split open and raw –
The gritty sand reveals
the true woman’s song.
We take pain and wrap it up pretty with bows
and put it gently away where all bad memories go
She has shined pearls at her core in the depths of the night
Washing the spots with strength – they will see her light!
She won’t give up.
She – grown up.
Stacked up layers of shell.
To crack her open,
first cross those fantastical frontier fields,
Of sharp bladed grasses that leave cuts at your heels
And attempt to carry the burdens of all rivers in passing,
And give-give-give without even asking,
Oh a ways to go
Before you know how she feels.
A life to live
Before you know what she knows.
She’s almost unreal.
A chief of the land.
Nicks and pricks,
Hidden hits to her heart –
The constant change in commotion –
Sacrifices enough to fill an ocean –
Holds them in wisely
But swells up under tides,
Releasing enough-Not to spoil inside
Keeping her safe. Keeping her well.
Refusing to bury herself in her own personal hell.
She’s strong, but a mortal.
There are times. She is soft.
So in her parallel nature –
Under the thickest of shells-
Is the woman of women
Unheard of, unknown.
Who covers the world
And the pain
She knows –
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