Her heartbeat echoes from under our feet.
Eyes painted like forever changing skies.
Hair streaked the color of ripened wheat.
She draped canopies of colorful dyes,
emotions heavy like a crashing wave.
Her strong arms support us when we need aid.
Though we are her, she is ours to save.
She is a widow, a sister, a maid.
Soul glints with the anger of her black storm cloud.
Her dance follows the sway of the oak.
We must fight for her our blood and be proud.
Her mighty head crowned with a ring of smoke.