Day 24

The words sweat clear and slow

out of your chameleon  head-dress.

They cannot expect or project

your downfall.

You were a strong woman,

breaking silence the way they broke-in

your womb

with a creative ferocity that bends

wills and minds.

I know that you’d prefer to be remembered

for your gentle smile

but a summoning strength

that muscle and fascia

hold to like algae

is your reality.

You have crossed the ocean many times.

Leaving pieces of your ships

and shells

for us to find.

I wonder who you were to your children.

Soft breath and singing,

holding them like sand through your hands.

I do not think you a tyrant.

I do not think you a harlot.

I prefer to clutch your agency,

and hold on to that in your memory.