I will call to my nameless ancestor

I see her in the wild

Maiden or Crone I do not know

Enrobed in dirt or blood

I cannot tell

Age, skin color, origin

All obscured by the small world around her

What I do see is her spirit

A wild, broad thing

It over shadows her limited knowledge

Her mind wrestles with simple logic

But her spirit, her desires, shine like the sun.

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