a tradition

my throat is slit
wide open. Exposed.
however
no blood is flowing.
my body is posed in frilly lace
and leaves no room for stoicism.
standing on the front line
of all worldly battles.
it requests or rather
gently calls me to forsake
the sisters to appease
the sacred text.
for my place is by the bed
tending a chest of manly
mishapen deemed unworthy
for bodies draped in lace
-mj soulaana