laid infants
in swaddling clothes of snow
and freshly frozen earth.
Cradles of cold
beneath a blanket of
silent, weeping stars.
Women of iron and rusted
wagon ruts
forged pathways
of faith by dusty,
tear-stained cheeks,
and desperate hours of
prayer and waking nights.
Women of faith conquered fear,
and left me with hope.
18/20 August 2011
©Eleanor Clark
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