Salut

Raise your glass, my friends.
Here's to the women
who still laugh after tears
recalling bruises and fists.
Brava for the women
who say, "Let them have it.
I know I'll go on."
A song for the mothers
who know waiting rooms
and funeral homes
the way others know play dates
and prom dates.
A chant for the women
who bandage their wounds,
then work helping others heal.
Whoop for the women
who see into eyes too bright, too wide
and tend with lipstick on a shaky smile.
Applaud for the women
who open their hearts
and let you see inside.
Hurrah for the women
whose straight backs and vinegar words
keep them moving
when their strength is gone.
A prayer for the women
who position, twist and spin
with a chessboard eye
when hoping hearts and clever minds
collide and race.
A hug for the women
standing in shadow with dulled eyes
blind to the light they give.
Rejoice for the women
who don't know they soar
on a leap of faith.
Here's to the women,
my friends.
The women,
whose scars are jewels
on lives
rendered deep,
painted bold,
and rich beyond measure.