In honour of the young women and indeed all the women.

Becoming

The night crawled up, and wrapped itself around her,

enveloped her in a prison of dark mist

squeezing the juice of peace from her heart,

spouting it from her eyes in violent energy:

she rolled into a ball trying to keep dry,

but her weight sunk her to a bottomless ocean,

dark, deep and heavy with blood,

The thoughtless crowd cheered:

and clapped hands and slapped each other on the back

while she tried to widen her eyes to awaken

yet the dawn delayed her coming;

a tiptoe…

the truth snuck from behind her and put a blindfold to her eyes,

and everything became dark alleys,

rows upon rows, stacks upon stacks…

she chocked on her heavy breath; her eyes gleaming with horror

her lungs filled with water, and her body froze in pain,

like some waxen image newly dry

silence…

then convulsions and friends weeping

and a mighty thud of a hammer to her heart

shattering and breaking it,

not even stopping her breath of life,

even that she cannot do

her eyes thick with the palpable darkness

she stumbled as she walked,

stepped on thorns and thistles on the path

and collapsed into a heap of shadows

And then there was sunlight…

crystal moons broke through the clouds and with glorious shafts,

pierced the darkness and evaporated the fog,

Her voice sounded a whisper, then a great Amen;

echoed from the walls and shattered the prison,

her nostrils opened wide and a gust of air ran into them,

her heartbeat started again, — slow,- weak,-faster

the crowd stood rooted in disappointment,

tense faced, round-eyed, and confused:

and then she stood, rose like the wind, like a water surf

like a mad goddess out of patience

refused to be submerged, bobbed up as a floating ball

and danced…

she felt warm, sanctified,and clean,

sweet young angels called and called

and she continued to arise,

and arise…