Womanhood
armed with a slender dark swagger
to survey the ground
for the battle ahead
She fought the good fight
at each mileatome of life
leaving her footprints, indelible
on the sands of time
At the sound of the trumpet
she stepped forward, alone
in a desolate night
taking upon the monstrous night
When mothers die,
they die true heroines
for they are heroines,
that bear the pain of child birth
When girls are born,
they are born heroines
for they are heroines
that look forward to motherhood.
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