A Toast to Strong Women

Do not mourn me if you did not know me in my prime.
If you have not known me of old, you have missed
The essential spirit, the force, the presence that I am.
This shell of a body I rail against it and the frailties of man kind.
I abhor life’s one certainty; I have not gone gentle into that good night.
When you think of me, as you will, do not say
She was wife, mother and well loved.
Say, instead she was powerful, she was a formidable force
Do not make me meek and kind
These are not words that describe me well.
I have lived on my own terms, in my own way.
Even in my quietness there was force, character and will
To do as I pleased, when I pleased.
No, do not confuse quietness with weakness
I have been the shaper, not the shaped, the sculptor not the clay.
I will leave my mark; there will be no blank slate
Do not mourn me, toast me instead with words
True, strong and vibrant as I have been.
Diminished as I may eventually be
By time's connivings
I will not be silenced
Roar for me, once more.