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
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
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