The bitch is shrewd; the bitch is rude;
the bitch is crude; the bitch is a prude!”:
whispers and screams in reality and dreams
as they choose to reduce a human being
to a label, as they confuse their perception
with the truth, as they lose each feud
in spite of the ruse they try to put into action,
for her spirit soars above the roars of the labels,
her mind swims beyond the shores of the tables
they think belong to them, and her heart –
Oh, her heart sings louder than the fables
they attempt to link with fact sans vision or tact;

The witch is a narcissist; the witch is a purist;
the witch is a realist; the witch is a feminist!:
Bitch or witch or some other scared curse –
Oh, this tribe has laughed in the face of worse
aims, this tribe has danced with the flames
of each verse, polite or otherwise, this tribe
has a strength no words can hope to describe,
this tribe has a hope that has won games
more dangerous than the ones that use names
as weapons, this tribe has a rope that knows
no end, this tribe has built castles from
the ashes of the blame and the shame
aimed at annihilating it, this tribe rows a boat
that has stayed afloat amidst each tempest:

This tribe writes its own tale, this tribe rises
every time it does fail, this tribe fights
its own battles, this tribe shall not succumb
to any shackles, this tribe of the bitch
and the witch will always shine bright even as
those trapped by insecurity threaten its rights,
even as those scared of equality lighten the lights.

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