To Thine Own Flame Be True

There is a place in all our breasts
where we hold our truest treasures.
Our love for ourselves and for all of our kind
and the virtues by which we are measured.

We begin with the grain that continuously binds
We end with the wheat of our harvest.
We remember our sisters who emblazon our path;
whose flames burn throughout the forest.

Symbolic sisters envisioning their dreams.
Each striding forth from disparate abodes.
Each singing bravely her own heartsong.
Each stepping onto the grand road.

From each separate singing,
a separate choir petitioned.
Some sang for freedom from fear and oppression.
Some sang for equal conditions.

In each of their hearts no matter the verse,
a flame gleamed  glorious in hue
Its light on the land diminished the dark.
The dream of the women stood true.

That their brothers and sisters,
their dissidents and their esteemed
might mingle  touching shoulder to shoulder