100th anniversary of International Women’s Day

God is a woman
and so is war.
The most beautiful creature to ever walk this Earth
the most delicate sound,
a brook, a waterfall.

They nurture you,
and make you fall in love.
They inspire songs, poetry, art
and on rare occasion
when you least expect it,
almost as if by accident, walk by and break your heart.

Just look at them, playing by the sprinklers,
putting out a fire, ruling countries, flying out to space.
Caring for you when you're sick
expecting little in return.
You can kill a dragon for them,
or a mouse,
or even a tiny little spider,
they will praise it all.

Their words can illuminate the night
they are the ones who close the doors,
and turn out the light.

A hydroelectric dam is a woman,
and so is magnetism, electricity
gravity, pressure.

The fountain of life
is a woman,
and so is every single pleasure.

and so is the ocean
and the sea
and the blood on the sword
and the sword itself.

And the moon, and the cloud
crying each, and every tear,
raining from the thundering storm
shaking the skies, flooding it all, like a woman.

And so is the film, and the paper,
and the ink with which we write our lives,
and the spear, and the arrow, and the cross.
The virgin, and the prostitute are a woman
almost every single star, painting constellations in the sky,
women as the infinite sign is.

The strongest fortress is in the arms of a woman,
the warmest shelter.
Their eyes, the most delicate gem
and their heart an engine
driving this universe in every direction
every law of physics we choose to ignore,
every snowflake, every petal,
warmth for evermore.

Their lips are like fruit
some forbidden, some sweet, some bitter
Their breasts can be colossal cathedrals
full sails, chapels, or pitiless camping tents.
Either way, they feed us
and they feed the World
in endless Niles of milk.

Their thighs are monuments of monuments
pink marble wonders
curves that make my mind spiral,
sensuality that makes my hands sweat.
and yet... we sell them and we buy them,
and we force them into marriage
and we hurt them, and we beat them. and we rape them.
And we use them, and we denigrate them,
and we cheat and lie to them.
And we enslave them, and we deny them the most basic birthrights,
...and stupidly think we can get away with it,
and they say nothing.
They endure the pain, as if it were their cross to bear,
until you can't see them..
That's when they'll cry their wounds in silence,
putting them away, in a little cabinet
all neatly folded, in chronological order.
...But make no mistake about it,
in the morning they will sharpen your shame
and forge it into arrows
cause we forget that love is a woman
and so is a shotgun
and so is History, and if you truly know a woman
then you know their memory is flawless.
So don't forget, they are so much more than what you see
for a woman can be a lover to some
and a mother to others
for a woman is both a flower,
and a hydrogen bomb.