Prophecy of Sand

Men, they say Dominators Slayers Conquerors We have been subjugated by their culture and rules The norms and the religions of masculine fools The laws and the clowns The world one day will evolve We who have the curves and seductive smiles Are we not filled inside with the same DNA? so they say… Give us books and untie our bonds We shall rise up, making empires strong Mock not my dashing eyes Discount not, my luscious thighs I shall dance your dance into the night Have no doubt; I shall be your queen When we are embraced, for who we are Do you not see? We shall gleam like the stars in the night Genders, colors, nations too Leave them sitting in old church pews Philosophers, doctors, engineers of creation We shall be side by side, working with you So smile and behold the new golden age Suras must die, in the deserts of past sage Sisters of the sun, the gods, and the wind The old men of the past must rescind Glories are coming, so rejoice and behold Equality is the greatest story a woman ever told Poet George Sand Notes Excerpt from letters to Gustave Flaubert Nohant from George Sand Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin, wrote under the pseudonym name of George Sand She was born in July, 1804, and is more known as a writer, but many of her prose by today’s standards are very poetic in nature. She was a feminist long before the term existed. She was very able to converse and discuss with men, as equals, and at the same time able to maintain all that makes us beautiful. She was able to see the finest details of life as well as absorb the political and cultural idiosyncrasies of the time, and had no fear saying her own views. To be an inconvenience distresses me I sleep everywhere, in the ashes, or under a kitchen bench, like a stable dog. Everything shines with spotlessness at your house So one is comfortable everywhere. I shall pick a quarrel with your mother and we shall laugh and joke, you and I, much and more yet. If it’s good weather, I shall make you go out walking, if it rains continually, we shall roast our bones before the fire while telling our heart pangs. The great river will run black or grey under the window saying always, fast, faster! Carrying away our thoughts, and our days, and our nights, without stopping to notice such small things. "The beauty that addresses itself to the eyes is only the spell of the moment; the eye of the body is not always that of the soul."