There is a stirring

an ache in the heart

in depths that defy

known space


A rise

in the soul

of ancient

voices of the


who have bled

who have lost

who have waited

who have endured

Salt wash of tears

in eyes long thought dry


in fingertips

in palms

now empty

longing to cup


on bare skin

on  malleable clay

mold the world

into new shapes

where every breath

is not a knife

where the past

is not inscribed on bone

where she remembers

how to dance

among the stars


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as: , , , , ,


  1. I am thinking there are some powerful poems I am reading about empowerment, about connecting the power of being a woman and rising above the past to redefine our paradigms. I love this and am taking note of something…

    Liked by 1 person

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