when i broke hope
people told me i was strong.
i felt them wrong,
or trite to talk in tropes.
i still sought then to measure strength in stone.
i did not wish for strength to be alone.
i'd not recalled that women's strength
is soft as spider threads,
as the fine-filament pathways
on which only some may tread,
that would support the weight of water
or the rounded drops of dew
that lay heavy as exhaustion on our hearts,
but would reveal a crystal matrix
when sunlight should pass through.
i had forgotten women's strength
is not density of matter
but co-incidence of crossing,
is in the care and the awareness of connection.
that it is the part of me that's part of you.
and i know that you are out there
spinning your selves as stories.
spinning webs of world
from the silken silver springs
that flow from the core.
amidst the mugwort of the evening
whose scent seeps to the air,
as the breath that we excrete,
as the being that we share,
i recall the strength that is my own
to know you all are there.
Source: www.thoughtsfromtheroots.wordpress.com