Ladies in wailing,
women in waiting.
Mobility aids in the micro sublime.
Water-filled mouth spits out
a muted scream:
Scintillating drums, going numb.
But we hear you.
We have come to hold on to you,
so you can let go.
The weeping workers, an alliance by ties.
We clasp our hands in harmony,
the cycle will go-on.
We tie the knots for remembrance,
knots to not forget.