Where are you?
Little girl with broken wings but full of hope
Where are you?
Wise woman covered in wounds

Where are you?
Where are you?
Where are you?

Today is the day I will not sit still and give in anymore
Today, I rise

I am bruised, but I will get up and walk again
Today, I rise

I don’t care if you ignore my beauty
Today, I rise

Through the agony of my darkest nights I heal and thrive
Today, I rise

I move through the world with confidence and grace
I open my eyes and I am ready to face
My wholeness as a woman and my limitless capacities
I will walk my path with audacity
Today, I rise

I reconnect with the many aspects of myself
I’m in awe of the reality I can breed

I am a queen
I am a healer
A wise woman
A wild woman
I will rise and be

I am a rebel I will wake up and fight
I am a mother
And… I am a child

I will no longer disguise my sadness and pain
I will no longer suffer and complain

I am black and I am white
There’s no reason to hide

Where are you?
Where are you?
Where are you?
Where are you?

I call upon Kālī to give me life
I transform my anger into power
No more heartache or strife

The world is missing what I am ready to give
My wisdom
My sweetness
My love
And my hunger for peace

I weep with the trees and the rivers and the earth in distress
I rise and shine and I’m ready to go on my quest

Today, I rise without doubt or hesitation
Today, I rise without excuses, without procrastination
Today, I call upon my sisters to join a movement of resolution and concern
Today is my call to action
I will fulfill my mission without further distraction

Today is the day
Today, I will start
To offer the world the wisdom of my heart.

It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.

Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
comver your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage. ~Anais