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Abstract

f">If she didn’t tug at the tides, giving our oceans movement and life?</p><p id="0492"><b><i>This is the Feminine. Respect Her.</i></b></p><p id="d83e">What would you do if intuition was lost in this world of statistics and algorithms?</p><p id="3c21">If you forgot how to hear that gentle voice within you that sometimes guides your decisions and understanding of the world?</p><p id="9dad">If you could no longer access your inner knowing?</p><p id="52b8"><b><i>This is the Feminine. Respect Her.</i></b></p><p id="d367">What would you do if birdsong was drowned by the sounds of industry?</p><p id="8ba1">If a chorus of frogs on a summer night could not be heard over the thrum of engines?</p><p id="26d4">If the wind stopped strumming at the branches of trees?</p><p id="ffef"><b><i>This is the Feminine. Respect Her.</i></b></p><p id="e701">What would you do if the snow didn’t fall, the land didn’t rest, the light didn’t ebb?</p><p id="c9a8">If there was no relief from the endless generation, no breath in between constructions, no release from the relentless grind?</p><p id="21bd">If there were no long nights, no nourishing naps, no pause in between the inhale and exhale?</p><p id="2d56"><b><i>This is the Feminine. Respect Her.</i></b></p><p id="37e0">What would you do if there were no gentle breasts to rest your head upon?</p><p

Options

id="4d55">No soft embraces to sink into?</p><p id="db68">No fleshy thighs to cradle you?</p><p id="78a7"><b><i>This is the Feminine. Respect Her.</i></b></p><p id="70bf">© <a href="undefined">Yael Wolfe</a> 2021</p><p id="1234"><b><i>More poetry:</i></b></p><div id="141a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/are-you-sure-you-want-me-31c06e63862a"> <div> <div> <h2>Are You Sure You Want Me?</h2> <div><h3>A poem of invitation…and warning</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*0w9iOWXk2uEZG4g1zsa8wA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="37cb" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/selchie-dc85028b60d7"> <div> <div> <h2>Selchie</h2> <div><h3>A poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*GT3GNNtZdrhHvapNQ0l_9Q.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

This Is the Feminine

A poem of remembrance

What would you do if the relentless heat of June and its sun-dominated days didn’t come with the sweetness of the strawberry?

If you didn’t find those shiny rubies tucked into the shade of the plant’s broad leaves, their flesh gently warmed by the season’s first promise of the even hotter days to come?

If you couldn’t taste that sweet, red nectar that coats the eager tongue and stains your fingers with every bite?