Freeing Herself
the splendor of an essence, delicate yet
firm is called
woman…
awed by her mystery through years,
thirst of rivers and shorelines never knew
her meaning,
her perfume and poison
mixed with elixir cloaked in legends
which trace her tears, taste all maiden songs
and still cannot touch her, own her
absence, presence--
many men crush this feminine generosity,
trampled, demeaned like a wilting flower
but she is an eternal prayer, rising from
violence and domesticity-
this is woman…
bequeath your shrines primitive or medieval
you are timeless,
give those who have one bare minute
a last glance of your soul’s courage
above, under and beyond
Mary's firm panels of heaven,
for despite any human cruelty, she prevails.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
