The Winter’s Rhythm
The winter breathes a biting song,
But women’s voices ring like bells go long.
The earth is veiled in icy white,
Yet their souls are silenced by the wicked night.
The snowflakes dance, but so do they,
With steps that carve a beautiful way,
Roots deep in soil, in frozen stone,
They build the world and can’t call it home.
Their eyes, like frost that crowns the pine,
Hold battles fought, their sharp design,
While winter chills and bites the skin,
They grip their rights as they are stretched more thin.
In coats of strength, they stitch the seams,
Of futures crumbling like dreams,
They mend the cracks in brittle ground,
While cold winds try to break them down.
The world may harden, harsh and stark,
But women blaze like bright, fierce sparks,
Winter may hush and freeze the land,
Yet they rise up, the forefront of man.
Like wild snow that defies the sun,
They lead the march when spring’s begun,
Not waiting for the thaw to start—
For they are winter’s beating heart.
