She Will Not Be Quiet Poem by Julia Fehrenbacher

will not water down
words so you
can be more comfortable. She will not

let you dim the fire
from her eyes, the tiger
from her blood

She
is flower born wild
high note hit just
right—thirsty soldier dying
to come home

She will no longer tiptoe so you can continue to sleep.

You will find her
here
moving winged hips
and bare feet, roaring

to the rhythm
of her own firelight—
her ashes our medicine
guiding you here
guiding you home