We, Nasty Women

must refuse relegation, obey only the roar of our own angels, then reshape breastplates to shield the motherland from any warlord who dares to pimp our flag. Battlefields have always been a woman’s place, We were born to bleed, to fight- off advances, to heal from the inside-out. We, nasty, nasty women who dare castrate filibusters, know grit, audacity, the combat for higher grounds. History is lit by an army of fiery heroines, burnt at stakes by low-life aristocrats, suckling-pig-kings. We, Nasty women rise from ashes to become better-armed daughters, knightmares, hallowed witches on frontlines, glorious, undefeated legends. After Jeanne d'Arc et Saint-Michel by Eugene Thirion, painting seen above