Those
broken shards,

*scream*

those brittle,
bright blasted shards
jagged and hungry and
so shockingly absent.

They yawn with full belly
and ravenous soul for more
death, more hurt, more

*unlife*

but I have them
in my sights, now.

I shall throw me down
on my sister’s wounds
I shall bleed my heart dry
with balm from Gilead and
I shall cry out
in constant consolation
from her inward parts

while our
Strong Soldier Sisters Stand
round about us outside and ringed
in winged-woman-might
and tender hearts

so knit,
so tight.

And in
your death place
I find
life transcendent
And in
my own
your laugh rings
so resplendent

we will survive
our screams,
our tears,
our grief

and rest together
in Mama’s Sweet Relief.