Weavers of Magic

Women

The healers

Majestic weavers

Entwining threads

Of gold

To gently mould

Bright moments

To dark

Wholeness

Enchants us

To venture on

Dreaming beyond

The abyss

We miss

When roles taken

Are mistaken

For worth

We feel deeply

Distaste

Left on fingers

Fondling lingers

As beaten thoughts

Stamp no

Forcing low

The howls that rumble

And we stumble

Upon that strength

Meant

So intently

To snap the wire

Where desire

Has hidden

And rid

Are the bands

That bound our hands

To what we believed

Was all we could be

But see

We’re more

In the depths of our core

Than labels

And fables

We’ve grown to aspire

We’re higher

Than all we know

As above and below

We rise