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Dropping Stars

by Tiara Yount

Her lips hiss truth, not like a sword, like a serpent
A still, small voice as big as the sea
Her hips carry suffering, not like a cross, like a cradle
The infinite weight of the world bears She

Her breasts nourish nations, not with meat, but with milk
At our cry, raining down in a flood
Her thighs part the shadows, not by force, but freewill
Wisdom gained by experience and blood

Her hair blankets brokenness, not like a cast, like a quilt
She wraps in a consuming fire
Her hands dropping stars, to come to rescue and save
Lifting Her children up higher and higher

Her all-seeing eyes seek connection, not scorn
Unearthing raw empathy
Her navel soft and strong, not one creation is lost
Stretches wide as eternity

Woman standing in front of sunset and moon in sky