As I pry the hardened grey idea
from her attachment,
divorcing my mind with exploited appearance,
my pen pinches paper.
She has risen. Freed.
Hear her roar! Feel her scream.
She insists on being listened to.

Show me the sun, prisoners of my mind!
Find me a truth so high that I may live in awareness pure, transform in justice to the scathed world.
Give me words to describe
the fierce composted glittering insane expanding ferocious female idea I see before me!
LET THERE BE LIGHT!