You are the Memory that carries the light,
and the Earth that refuses to become a grave.
You don't step on the ground, you are the ground.
You are the black earth that swallows the shells
to return them like ears of corn.
In your hands the mud of war becomes clay of creation,
The deeper your darkness, the higher your fruit will reach.
You are the amulet of life that does not allow oblivion to erase the trace of man.
In your gaze reside the generations that have passed.
and those who are waiting for your breath to be born.
You are the book that is written with blood and read with caresses.
When the headlights of death tear the sky,
You become a star, a spark of stubbornness on the horizon.
You are not a victim of time, you are Time itself.
You are not just silk on the skin,
You are the steel hidden in the soul.
You are the shield that turned her apron into a sack for a little bread,
and your embrace as a refuge when the roofs collapsed.
Where iron falls in love with flesh to destroy it,
You stand as the living denial of death.
You are not a port,
You are the sea that decided to become land.
so that your gut can walk.
You are the power that can rebuild a world from scratch,
the power that does not ask permission to exist.
You are the woman who carries water inside the barrels of guns,
the mother who breastfeeds the future,
the daughter who writes poems on the walls of the fortresses.
You are not a date on the calendar,
but the invisible thread that sews the torn veils of time.
Happy birthday to the women who kept the world standing when the gods abandoned it.
Georgia Douni
Poet – Writer
photo safari248, https://pixabay.com
