I read often these days about women who are power-brokers, and women who are healers; strong women, courageous. And I think of how many of that kind I know myself.
I know women whose skin scrapes against the luminous skin of the world, and so it takes courage for them to go out of their house unshawled, barefaced, to where the crowds and the cars roughen the world's skin too.
I know women whose power is the gentling of small worried hearts, and negotiating playground treaties, and creating the greatest enterprises of all - human beings.
I know women who heal others through the food they make them, the moonlit stories they tell them, the quiet hand they lay so very softly on their arm, easing them into peace.
Courage is not always a battlestorm. It can be as simple as a smile, as quiet as slipping a poem into your social media feed. It can be holding the stillness in the darkness, holding the calm so other people feel safe enough to fear.
Courage can be daring to be gentle. How many women have the courage to show the world they are not so much skin but the memory of owl feathers, or the constellations of old quiet words, or what the tide tenderly left behind when it withdrew back into magic?
I wish I was an artist, for I would love to make a badge : gentle & brave. And I would love to wear it, display it on my website, so other women knew.
Knew that I knew that was what they were too.