Sacred Women

The women were already lined
Along the shore,
Waiting for you
To discover them,
Uncover them;
Waiting for you to free them
From a dark and hostile place.

I feel their pain.
It is the agony of birth
And the agony of death
And the desperation
Of dying in a foreign land.
They watch the bodies
Balance on a wave
Before they crash
And tumble on the rocks.
They are helpless,
Unable to save anyone,
So this mute memorial
Is ranged along the shore
For evermore,
To bear witness.

So these women stand
To tell their story and
To save our souls.
I wonder how they stay rooted,
What keeps us rooted,
Prevents us from throwing ourselves
Into the sea for a drowning
When all our tears cannot release us
From our bodies and our sins?
They do not scream in silence
For we hear them -
But stand
A timeless weapon
Against a cruel hand
And keep their vigil
In this foreign land.
Singly, silently, alone,
Each one birthing
In the dark and primal spaces
Of my mind –
A sorrow, a dark wound
That is not mine alone.
No tears can wash away
The blood of man
But I am sure that
God and this memorial can.

Victoria Braham Sarne