There are some days where I feel like a Woman,

Today being one of them.

It’s not from wearing a skirt, or powdering my face.

Nor is it from keeping my voice soft and high, or laughing in fits of tiny giggles.

No.

It’s from standing up tall,

Shoulders broad,

Eyes blazing,

Ears sharp,

Legs strong,

Head high,

Arms raised to the heavens,

And fingers dipped in magic.

I am proud to be a Woman.

I suck the power and good from the sap of pain and mistakes that clings to my roots.

I am a tree with spiraling wisdom inside me.

My leaves are gifts that grow on my fingertips.

I am happy.

I am pure.

I am all-powerful.

I can do anything,

Be anything.

My life is a tribute to the women who were free even among the chains,

Who were unyielding even among the hopeless,

Who let the tears flow proudly even among the dense,

Who stood in truth when temptation took the form of their fears,

And who screamed for peace when war kept us silent.

To be a Woman,

Sensationally,

Is to drive the very course of nature,

Crack the whip of justice,

And nurture life itself.

There is a steaming battle that rumbles inside.

Her gaze explodes stardust,

Her smile cracks the constellations,

Her laugh rocks even the quietest whispers in the deep galaxies,

Her presence glides along the currents in space,

And her dance saturates the universe.

This is for you, women.

We speak your Names.