Tell Our Daughters         
each is beautiful
a woman's life
makes it (that awareness)
through her touch
         descendants
of strict age
set against vanity

not secure in loveliness

a girl is born
like a little bird opening its wing
she lifts her face
in a down of feathers

a rose
          opens its leaves
with such a natural care
that we give words for
petal deep
in the imagination
         a word becomes
         a bitter thing
         or a word is
         an imagination

tell our daughters         they are
fragile as a bird
strong as the rose
deep as a word

and let them make
their own growing time

         big with tenderness
the fire of love