Warriors I: A Reckoning Of Forces

A warrior is a funny creature
As much fierce and fire
As she is mud and mire.
As much tears as blood
As much ebb as flood.
And when once you have fought her
Seen the triumph you have brought her
You’ve done no more than teach her
That wars are won by no higher
Force than our daughters.

Warriors III

Before we had things
To put in our house
They danced in the empty spaces.
And sometimes when we sing
Of all we have lost
The night flows past in their voices.
How many times I’ve laid them down
My weapons and my defences
Only to find them forged anew
And alight in my daughters’ faces.

Warriors I: A Reckoning of Forces

A warrior is a funny creature
As much fierce and fire
As she is mud and mire.
As much tears as blood
As much ebb as flood.
And when once you have fought her
Seen the triumph you have brought her
You’ve done no more than teach her
That wars are won by no higher
Force than our daughters.

Warriors III

Before we had things
To put in our house
They danced in the empty spaces.
And sometimes when we sing
Of all we have lost
The night flows past in their voices.
How many times I’ve laid them down
My weapons and my defences
Only to find them forged anew
And alight in my daughters’ faces.

For AA – If Wishes Were Horses

At eight, I guess flying horses
Are what little girls desire.
It isn’t so much the strength of the beast
As the wings of drifted snow
The mane afire. They are things
Of feather light and sunset glow,
Pony tails bright tied, with ribbons
The colour of russet horse hide,
Little girls are. And mine has spent
The afternoon on youtube, bent
Over paper, creasing delicate folds;
As if the careful act of origami holds
The rush of wind in her straining face
The crafting of belief, the power of grace.