When her voice is weary
it means it is time to listen.
When her armor is heavy,
it means it is time to be soft,
time to slip out of her certainty
and her battle songs,
time to retreat from the lines
she has drawn, time to unknow
the world she thinks she knows
and to find herself in the world
that knows her. She lets the darkness
penetrate her, it caresses
her universal curves. Her quiet
joins her to an infinite quiet—
she is everything, nothing at once.
She relearns how vulnerability
transforms us in ways
ferocity can not.
She is her own fertile seed.
She is her own desert rain.
She’s her own cocoon, her own inner cave.
Sometimes it takes the darkness
to remind us how to be brave.