Your currency is more than skin, woman:

your pride is deeper than shape, your worth 

is more holy than the relics we wall up

to save from time and touch. 

You are upset that it cannot be photographed?

You wish you had something to show,

something to send that might serve his needs?

His fingerprints mark the patina of 

your bright and precious soul; do not

give in, woman, do not forgive.

Do not ever forget your own honor.

Do not let him forget that he is a guest

in a world of your making.

Without you, where are the children?

Without you, who kneads the bread?

Without you, who will set their soul aside

to cater to his whims? You may find goodness

in serving, you may find a sense of

what is best or least in you. It does not matter.

You are whole, and wholly your own.

Rescind the invitation when you must.

Your value is heavier than gold,

your hands hold more than the world.

Sister, you are mine, and I am yours, and we

can own all that we need, together.