if all girls could
…
learn
to dream
to lead
and to believe
that they are connected by a network of thousands of spiderwebbing arteries and capillaries filled with the sweet nectar of sisters and eden’s garden
that swan necks, slips of shadows dipping their feet in white water,
are no less brutally beautiful than bone china knives to carve paper skin
and that they are all powerful, whether with the grace of jade or the same viridescence reflected in tiger eyes
a girl may have fine gold bands adorning her fingers with diamonds straining to catch the barest gleam of sunlight that don’t deserve to be called rings but are hardly the solitaire flag of surrender,
and she is no less a bird than a Claire de Lune in the rain, wild and free because she refuses to be caged
and that the
long-stemmed roses flirting with the skyline
should share the sunlight with the wisps of dandelions underfoot
to accept
the lines of their bodies and dips and curves landscapes lain out, shaped by time and magic
and accept each other,
and that one girl may be porcelain, another ivory, and yet another with a core of steel
some are even a combination of the three
and a girl may allow her face to be hidden by pale blossoms as branches bend down in the wind but her eyes are still blazing behind the petalled veil
and to empower each other
and stand in solidarity
in sisterhood
…
together they would be unstoppable
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