because she loved it, she kept it

because she liked little things

because it came ***** she washed it and

because it was broke she glued it, displayed it



until she passed and they came to clear it, liked it

until they saw the joins and threw it away, yet remember it

until another thought took over and it was forgotten

until some one new found it

She’s built of divinity.
Mother Earth birthed her,
sculpted her figure.
She’s the generations past;
She’s the collective future.
Her voice carries over the crests of waves,
harmonizing with the wind,
uniting the stars.
When she cries,
her tears rain from the heavens,
eroding sharp cliffs
and rough quarries
She created nations from dirt,
and power from her hands.
She is Woman.