O Do Not Weep, She Says, For

My Eye-balls Are Glass, My Limbs Marble, My Face Fixed In Its Marble Mask.

Long Hours Trail In Their Purple And Long Years Are Lost In Just This Moment While Our Souls Are Near, Our Mouths Separate.

No One Knows The Colour Of A Flower Till It Is Broken.

We Don't Have To Know,only To Be:let Go The Jumble Of Worn Words,reason And Vanity.

No Man Will Be Present In Those Mysteries, Yet All Men Will Kneel, No Man Will Be Potent, Important, Yet All Men Will Feel What It Is To Be A Woman.