A Day for Women

Blown, shredded, pieced
They like razor bladed grass
 had withered
For them, a day was attributed;
A day for my mother,
A day for my teacher,
A day for the ladies on the fields with hay sewn baskets
Chanting, rivers running beneath their toes
A day for those in front of the mirror
For those who are behind the mirror
A day for those who have no mirrors but
Wake up flawless,
Bees in their hair, dirt beneath the nails,
And a few potatoes for countless open mouths
A day for those in patches,
Patches of need, or bruises or failings of men.
A day for those on desks,
and those beneath the florescent,
Dissecting the pain away--
with frail fingers painting out of blood a Mona Lisa.
A day, just one day was coined,
For wombs,
For breasts,
For nurturing hands
For rough skin
For raising minds,
One day for not being a man,
Triumph! Triumph some would shout!.

A day was coined for them,
Myself included,
A day for us was named: Congratulations you are a woman.
The world says like it is an achievement
To negate and include a man:
Inside you,
Beside you,
Behind you (quiet possibly)
Today the world reminds you, this day is yours:
Yours to exercise shopping bag lifting
To grab a medal for heaving emotions
To glaze a smile for a blaring dish
To dance to the melodies of nocturnal cries--
and it is yours to blow out a the minds with
Your talk, or walk or your brain.
Today is yours, so smile, you woman.