Woman Warrior

 

 

Do not count the hours::

Suppress the hardness rising up in your throat.                      

Breathe.

  

Pick up the task where you left off, blow the dust away

                        to see the world.

 

Engage every muscle of your soul to layer your pagoda—

                        first light, then color, then a pair of wings.

 

Will your thoughts to the elements,

your words, their animators.

 

Believe what-is-a-woman-supposed-to-do question is a yew

at your past funeral:

 

In recent lives it has become chaff

in the palm of your hand. 

 

Look wild; you are full of the un-maya, the light

                        in the far reaches of your limbs holding you up.

 

Wrest your image from the-wife-of, sharpen your trident,

                        tuck your sari edge into your waist,

 

Adjust your seat on the tiger’s brilliant spine,

                        readying for the fight.

Pramila Venkateswaran, Behind Dark Waters (Plain View Press, 2008).