Tell Our Daughters

by Besmilr Brigham

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
 

 

From "Tell Our Daughters,’’ Magdalene Syndrome Gazette; 31 New American Poets; I Hear My Sisters Saying.

Tags:
Nature
Women
Motherhood
feminism
BOMB 55
Spring 1996
The cover of BOMB 55
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