The Woman’s Ch’i

She pulls the weeds
And trims the trees
With aching, tired bones.
Her strength resides deep inside
From the spirits of women she's known.

She rakes the yard
And waters the plants
With painful, swelling knees
But every night, her mother's whisper
And she wakes with the strength she needs.

She is made from the mud where her Mother's rest
Some days she's stiff and hardens.
She is made of the stars from the universe nest
Bearing force, from a quasar garden

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