Grace takes the eye,
a swish of fabric
in dappled rays
clear as day
Fatimih, Most Pure sounding the call to a new way
Only dawning then now coming clearer
How violent the reaction to what men fear!
That beauty idealized out of existence
Now present before the dazed.
“Crazed she must be!”
for daring to be?
a beauty so fatal he fears those thoughts seen!
What is she? is she me?
and if she is? What then must I be?
How do i relate? How do we see?
We the generation destined to nurture and comfort
violent contractions of worldwide pregnancy.
Our attempts to capture, control, and manipulate that feminine form
only result in scorn
no worse! Rebellion! Resistance! and violent Protest!
She in these shifting forms;
Earth mother, lover, wife
mistress, witch-healer, temptress
humanity in mass, the collective expressed.
How to woo her? recognizing the truth
that only as equal will yin love yang
and yang find peace
find the security he desperately seeks.
With flowers? with kisses?
with love letters? of rose scented perfume?
No, no brother for childish games are not suited to the task.
What is loved is likeness, and her name tells best
Tahirih! O Pure One! thus must the intention be!
If He can find Sublime in union with She.