metempsychosis

what strength has a woman*

to mourn

to breathe

whilst drowning in stupor

of sly, slinking, slander

a clandestine catalyst

simply to bleed is not enough

you must pull from

the underbelly of

buried gold, raw gemstones

such treasured trysts

this stalwart opus will arc

into an evolution of conscience

it will fasten and implant

though it will tangle

in sync

with the mortals

in masse

they may mark you

a firebrand of unpaid candor

but you are not tinder

you are the fire

neither a martyr

nor a souvenir of

delicious ambitions

you own the hammer

you wield the scythe

your heart is

welded sheet metal

tempered to arm your children

with gifts of grandeur

the thirst of justice

will be quenched by flames

we are phoenixes

awaiting ash