The room sways and swells with the juicy sweet lips of my sisters, oozing around in love and compassion hoping to welcome each woman into a cozy womb of our own creation. After years of being injected with venom, with my first step forward being told to crush the toes of the girls by my side, the smiles around me wash my face clean, each one says please, welcome, I believe the best of you already, and back at them, from behind my cautious eyes I hope they can hear the same. Words fall over us, in patterns I've never seen before. They rub and stroke from tongue to ear, each one a tiny matchstick placed to build a castle. Experiences so far from my own punch my stomach and wake me from my hypnotism, behind brown curls and unwilling tears truth seeps under all the edges. Hands caress instruments, rounded bellies, kneecaps and shoulders. Nods shared in silent appreciation of the space we inhabit together, the potential we have as we sit side by side in support of our sisters. We are bolstered, although it seems strange, by the words that have slashed us together with their vitriol, with their hatred, our shared silent understanding of hands creeping where they are not welcome and thoughts that linger in the corners of our minds we wish we did not have to indulge, but we do. Because we are women. Our outlines cut from the moon and our tears gathered from the ocean with soft tender hands, from our Mother Earth. Gushing together we create a tidal wave that will not be stopped by the barriers that have been built around us. Hand in hand we create a chain that knows nothing of binding and everything of freedom and we share it at the top of our lungs, even when they are crushed and fragile, we can watch the lips of our fellow survivors and hear the war cry that refuses to be silenced.