These women, they are old
in touch with ancient ways
the dredging of deeper points
they’ve come to know
and show, without hiding
Their faces are worn weathered maps
lines and holy roads
with soulful eyes
smiling they settle
and sit you down
beside them
In their circle of fire and knowing
these women of the earth
serve milky tea and mirth
their laughter resounds
it pounds the heart
grounds you there
in the fervent pureness
of your tears