Promoting rapid sheltering of unsheltered & unprotected women.
She is of our Flock
Her clothes and her face catch the dust
of the outdoors, once great
but renounced its splendor
when there was no shed
to take shelter against the wind.
She has no basin to wash in;
She has no nation who will stand
and declare: here you will soar!
She is one of the omitted many.
She is the mourning dove sequestered
by currents, by downdrafts she flapped headward against
with embattled spirit but was overtaken.
And had you stood where she stood—
a lone Athena against the bulwarked foe
Lack of Access—
you would have fared no better.
We all first blinked our eyes to the sun
worthy of a basin,
worthy of a nation.
She is of our flock,
and she is worthy.
(c)2019 Elyse Hart