Birthed, first of two spawns;
There were echoes of laughter, And strings of hallowed fetters.
Like yin and yang, you were fair and the other, obscure.
You forgot what it was to love yourself,
Forfeiting victory so yang could be triumphant.
You, the least desired child, mild one begotten of the untaught guild.
They knew no better than peddle you off to matrimony.
Few possessions stacked on an ox drawn cart,
To a fat diffident bourgeoisie.
Had they known your fortune was sealed;
That off to glass castles filled with maids awaited you,
Perchance, yang, they would have gifted instead.
But, your stars shone bright, fortunate yin,
He treated you like a queen.
You never wanted for nothing except a recess.
You birthed nine offspring, selfless to the core you nurtured them all,
And they orbited the heathens outstanding with each passing hour.
Fortune was on your side,
As the sisters of fate wove your story into perfection.
You overcame the odds and the dense darkness,
Standing up to intimidators of mammoth height.
Farmlands you wrestled to keep in hand;
When the man you never knew, yet loved passed on,
Yet, you survived grief and degradation,
From greedy in-laws;
Those who didn’t see you as worthy.
Afar, I stood admiring.
I heard stories of heroines.
Yet, one stands beside me,
Lifting me from the dust,
Snatching the dagger when I was forlorn,
And begging for a gape in the earth.
Whispered to never give up on me.
She wore no cape,
She cloaked herself in love,
And it enraptured her like a colossal effervesce,
Expanding to shield anyone she held her fire to.
I saw her stand to chauvinists,
Took hats off egoistic misogynists.
A rare lady that is;
She is yin!
By Yefon Isabelle