Calm sleep day
Urban brick
Birdsong, windy leaves

Inexplicable bagpipes

Lift soul brave
Raw harsh demand
Rise, rise and stand
This is life and beauty

Silence
Wind
Leaves

Motorbike engine roar

I don't want to be a knight in shining armour.
There's dignity in scars and old leather,
The badges of a long campaign.
We are wrinkled, yes, and sunburned,
Full of crows-feet and lines.
These are trophies, my friend.
Wear them with pride.
Our grey hairs emerged in our twenties.
Why? Because we fought!
We still fight the good fight.
Walk tall with your notches and your rust!
This grey is the grey of battle-steel,
The burnish of a well-used blade.
Your life is a tale worth telling, my friend.
Please, do not think you're not beautiful.

Fear confining you
Bound to your bed
Solace; murmur whisper secrets
Until the sun shines unhindered
All the world cries out comfort
In the flight of bird-wing wishes

Blood and lipstick femininity
My heels crack concrete
Redder than wine
Smile in the corner
Snarl along the fangs
I bite what’s mine to claim it
Eat it whole and raw
Black dress, fiery hair
Hips like an empress
I know you think you’re king
Baby, I’m a lioness
You’ll eat what I hunt
Lick the gore from my lips
My slavering red mouth
My feminine blood and lipstick

Today a thousand burdens coalesced;
Mind-monsters made meal of me.
Grief carved my face. Cry not, cry not,
We have no room for more tears.

In the morning, I saw dawn rising,
And a grey world turn green.
The sky was emptiness, blue bold music,
Over the sun that swift leapt high.

So cry not, cry not, my friend in sorrow,
Though masked faces weep in silence.
We are not alone in this desperate anger;
Dim lies the light before dawn.

The day the apocalypse ends
The women will have risen
Sweet potatoes from loam, tilled earth
Survival of the species, life and birth
Do not depend on guns, nor blood
But an unfurled sapling

When the children return to school
And the nurses display their strength
We realise the essentials
Our grandparents, our babies
Do not depend on algorithms, nor capital

A hand-sewn mask made for comfort
To defy the White Horseman
Means the women will have risen
The day the apocalypse ends