While ruminating on this post, I came across this gorgeous poem
by Bryonie Wise…

For all the ones 
who identify 
as She and Her 

For the ones 
whose bodies have been ravaged by 
an invisible enemy
and further brutalized 
by a potent remedy 
that will save them in the end

For the ones
mid-treatment 
mid-recovery 

or, for the ones 
who have hit bottom
and are pausing in the darkness 
to find breath 
before they consider 
rising again

For the ones who
continue to have their rights violated,
their voices suppressed,
mocked publicly, daily,
by one hundred and forty characters that fall without a thought 
from the finger tips of fearful men

This is for my sisters.

For the mamas and daughters 
in mourning, 
who have recently 
lost the first home 
they will ever know 

or who are preparing 
to travel as far as 
the ends of the earth 
to step into a bloody battle 
with the waters 
that need them the most

This is for my sisters.

The ones I carry, 
their hearts inside my own, 
bumping and thumping 
every step of the way; 
singing, praying, seeking, believing that there is another way 

And, for the ones 
I’ve not yet met 
who transmit a form of love 
that is untouchable 
through dimensions

This is for my sisters.

The ones I know are out there  
in the quiet expanse of the universe, 
making their wild way, wizardy in hand, 
who carry my heart 
in their own heart, too

This is for the ones 
who are not blood 
but soul … 
for the lovers, fighters story-tellers;

For the ones 
who continue to unravel the poetry embedded in their hearts and bones

And for the ones who allow vulnerability to co-exist 
as an essential 
part of their existence

This for my sisters.

For every woman
I have compared myself to,
held in my heart with envy 
or judged, silently, 
while trying to find my way 
back to the place 
we all come from … 

For the ones 
who have come before
and who will follow, 
long after we are stardust 
in the sky

This is for you, woman.

learn more about Bryonie Wise on her website.

My personal belief is that we are encountering an ugly collective bottom. One that is personified by our choice for POTUS. One that has brought some unpleasant truths about our country and society into the light, making it ok to be a racist or suppress women’s rights or fear “others.” But with this new reality also comes a call to action; a call for those who have quietly worried about the earth, or their mothers/daughters/sisters/women, or the color of their skin, or their nationality, or their ability to make a living wage, or their ability to access healthcare; a call for more light, more love, more compassion (even though it seems an impossible task). 

Healing these wounds requires women — lots of beautiful, powerful, noisy, unashamed, loud, smart women. I heard the call. This is why I marched. This is why most of the women I know marched, whether they articulate it in the same way or not. 

Women will make change happen. Women will lead the way. Women will help heal these wounded men. Women will help elevate and celebrate those men that are in balance and already get it. It is my humble opinion that women will save the human race, if it can indeed be saved. 

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