Each dawn, a woman’s spirit takes its stand,
A quiet war for freedoms yet unseen,
For dignity, for justice close at hand,
A future where all daughters can convene.
No single soul can taste the air of free,
While chains still bind another sister’s might,
A tapestry of shared humanity,
Unravels if one thread is lost to night.
From womb’s dominion, choice must be her own,
No stranger’s hand to judge what she must bear,
Nor shame’s cold shadow on her body thrown,
Nor whispers born of malice and despair.
The monthly flow, a natural release,
Demands no cost, but grants a woman peace.
So rage against the violation’s sting,
And let her sovereign body bravely sing.