Prayer to the Pyre
In the end, the world, the moon,
the tides,
always begins with women.
Their secrets, their
sacrilege, their strength.
So we march & we fight & we write
& we yell until we can only whisper,
We whisper until we are gasping for air,
choking on our victory.
Because our power has always been in
our quiet,
In our continuous, indestructible resolve,
Refusal to surrender, our hushed mobilization,
The blood oaths spilling across the sea,
Fields where we plant our promises
The seeds of our daughters
Zeus may rule the rain that feeds,
but Gaia will let them grow
Demeter will show them how to share,
To dive into the current of sisterhood,
Aphrodite will teach them how to take,
To defend their bodies and identities,
To conquer with barbaric grace, each arrow
A merciless scythe across the sky.
Because this is who I choose to love, and
she is beautiful. & we are valid.
Because this land stands upon dreams
that don’t belong to its roots,
suffocating black and brown bodies
By the millions by the centuries--
the necrosis of gentrification,
the slaughter of industrial incarceration,
the brutality of a free nation
built upon hypocrisy.
Oh Athena, teach me
how to shatter--
To sharpen my pen and swords and
sink my teeth into the rotten earth. To
seize until my hands are bloody and
broken and Triumphant. I am a woman:
I will never let go.
Just because our power has always been in
our quiet,
do not mistake it for silence.
Photo is a reproduction of Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss" in Syria by Tammam Azzam