Eun Ji, do you remember me?
I was the one that heard thunder
When you most wanted storms
We’ve always been about burning stars
Our letters were unearthly and radiant
And we took all our cowardice
And wrote it down for all the women
Who never dared to speak their minds
We were, feminists before poets
And for the festival of the dead
We rot their sacrifice in our rituals
And if all is looted, betrayed, sold again
Our words will flash with the wings
Of black deaths, brief plagues
And all that was once glorious
Will be glorious again, aloof with
The smell of honey, I’ll be the one
Walking you to reincarnation
I know you know this, that when
The dust of freedom settles
We’ll be the gold smell of the
Mouth of sunlight, when the
Future ripens suddenly, in a terrible
Festival of dead leaves and brief realizations
We were made for this #TheStruggleIsReal
Wuji Seshat 
fantastic!
Thanks for the props Mr. Goldstein
I keep coming back to the ‘the gold smell of the mouth of sunlight; at first it was only words, then it became an image! Such an unexpected oneness.
granted Marie, it’s maybe one of the better lines of the week. Your comment is pretty epic!