Women

How many times did your mother check on you in your sleep? How many times did your lover turn to you in the night? How many times did Wisdom ignite your soul?

Women, we look for tables of grace, and if there isn’t one, we walk the streets dropping breadcrumbs from hands drenched with knowing. We return to the ancient wells again and again, drawing up Hope. We can make bread out of nothing.

Women, we receive life, then grow life, then give up life, then stand watch at the gates of death. With tears, we face barrenness with red-hot hope. We are the ones who practice patience with diamond-strength. We are the holding ones.

Women, we taste our stories and when there is no ear to listen - we bear it. We wear it. On our hips, around the eyes, on our chests, against our breasts, in our bellies and in each and every smile that is required from us. We read the room to survive it.

Hands in the dirt, to faces, to prayer, to magic, to battle, to hands; all our love in our hands - holding life together. Women.

Photo Credit: Ahmed Carter