Warrior maven of defense.
You led us, your sisters, through fields where
we battled insurgencies within our own breasts.
You offered sorties of resistance,
standing resolute, hell bent against giving ground.
You were our stalwart midwife past death,
delivering us to shimmering new days.
Be we cowards or brave,
without judgment, you ushered us to hope or glory.
We rewarded you imperfectly with our beating hearts
or saddened you with its confirmed stillness.
On grounds hallowed by your tutelage
you have sheathed your own sword
as pink ribbons flutter silently in salute.
You have surrendered to peace, at last.