To Her

To those in the immovable fields, in the unabashed offices and in the unafraid kitchens; to those in a slum’s broken bungalows, in a city’s wearisome lofts.

To those who spend themselves, to those who expend themselves; to those who refuse unfettered weakness, to those who accept uncertain strength.

To those who exist through resistance and to those who resist through persistence.

To those dispossessed of their voices, to those who seize the ink of the microphone.

To those in the wrong bodies, to those trying to love the right body; to find the right body.

To those alone with their thoughts and to those surrounded by the thoughts of others; to those raising revolutions in school playgrounds, to those raising hell on parliamentary floors.

To those who admit defeat, repeat defeat and create defeat; to those victorious over defeat.

To those who have died in the service of others, who have lived in the service of others. Who have lived for themselves and died for themselves.

To those who break their mirrors, to those who accept their mirrors.

To those displaced, misplaced and replaced. To those loved, hated, remembered, forgotten and unknown.

To her. Today and everyday.