A poem of celebration of women whilst drinking Mugwort tea. By Leo

when i broke hope


people told me i was strong.


i felt them wrong,


or trite to talk in tropes.


i still sought then to measure strength in stone.


i did not wish for strength to be alone.



i'd not recalled that women's strength


is soft as spider threads,


as the fine-filament pathways


on which only some may tread,


that would support the weight of water


or the rounded drops of dew


that lay heavy as exhaustion on our hearts,


but would reveal a crystal matrix


when sunlight should pass through.



i had forgotten women's strength


is not density of matter


but co-incidence of crossing, 


is in the care and the awareness of connection.



that it is the part of me that's part of you.



and i know that you are out there 


spinning your selves as stories.


spinning webs of world


from the silken silver springs


that flow from the core.



amidst the mugwort of the evening


whose scent seeps to the air,


as the breath that we excrete, 


as the being that we share,


i recall the strength that is my own


to know you all are there. 



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