Let the women speak

“Let the women speak”

Read between these bold and flashing headlines
for the message to my sisters that we belong
standing silent in kitchens with bowed heads and backs,
that our testimony is an annoying fly to be swatted.

I’m shredding that message.

I am woman, no longer a bone from your body. God made me whole.
Cite me your old laws of how I am lesser, unclean, but I
am busy watching the Lord pick an adulteress off the ground and I
hear him telling a bleeding woman that her faith made her well.
Tell me all about my weakness but I
stand by the Lord who stopped everything to raise a dead son
for a weeping mother whose agony touched his soul.
He loved our complete selves, from tears to faith.

They killed Christ for his rebellion. You are still doing it.

Let the women speak. Listen to the wounded lives
struggling unseen in tearing bramble.
Hold up the girls, mothers, sisters, and grandmothers. It is time
for us to unlock our souls.

Call me heretic. I am watching the Lord lift a girl from her deathbed
and say she was only sleeping.



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Let the women speak by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.


You are Hiding

I dedicate this poem to my fellow women, with hope. Never forget that the light of the world dwells in us and we can use it to challenge the darkness.
God bless
“You are Hiding”
You are hiding.
I know this because when you were a girl
you were a blossom of creativity, a lively brook of dreams.
You spun worlds out of color and endless ideas.
Your path to your full potential
did not last.
You listened to fear’s senseless whisper, you dropped your flame.
Though your talent bleeds like sunrise through your skin
you covered yourself in cloaks and learned to shuffle in gray shoes.
You are hiding.
I watch you at arm’s length, unsure what I could say
to help you throw off the muted world you wear.
The best I come to is this:
Do not fear what you could be.
Fight for it. Love it. Love yourself.
Loving yourself is a risk, for all love is dangerous,
but all love comes from God and therefore it can look deeper,
touch our tender bones, and bring out the joy that birthed creation.
We are bearers of future.
Do not hide.
I am waiting.
You know this because I stand nearby
never ready to give up my hope,
sister, mother, daughter, woman.
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You are Hiding by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 11 “Just Us”

My brother drove west with my father to help him get settled in my parents’ new house in Arizona. After a few weeks, I flew out to meet my brother for our friends’ wedding in New Mexico, after which he and I flew home together. It had been almost a month since we’d seen each other, and the weekend trip in New Mexico was full of catching up and then looking ahead at the last steps of the move. One thing I know for certain is that my brother was one of the greatest blessings God gave me throughout this time. Without his calm, wisdom, faith, and support, I don’t know I would have gotten through. This poem is for Duncan, brother and friend.
Next week, I continue the story of my family’s move and God’s goodness in the change in the twelfth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
God bless
“Just Us “
To Duncan
sandy-bright glare of
New Mexico highway flashes by
while brother and sister
fill the rental car with stories
from East and West,
swapping tales like trading cards.
it is just us out here,
rolling on to celebrate
the new beginnings
of our friends in the mountains.
it is just us going back.
we don’t feel ready.
we don’t have answers.
in the pitch-black drive
winding out of the mountains
to a morning flight out
we figure one thing:
we are going home.
what that is has changed
and will change.
we are half of our family,
East to their West.
Even unready, I
am at least not alone.
we won’t have the answers,
but we will have enough.
We say to each other:
we have gotten this far.
brother and sister
take flight home.
what that is has changed
and will change
into new beginnings.
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Just Us by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Circle of Sisters

This poem was written for a group of women who meet in faithful fellowship, support, and love for each other and is also a tribute to the many women of the faith who have built up, reached out, and encouraged so many in their spiritual journeys.

God bless

“Circle of Sisters”
       standing in a city, 
              forest, river, 
                    small town, desert.
       weakness invades my bones.
a circle 
      of friends, 
         healing hearts, 
     warm smiles
           wraps around me when i think i am about to

this circle
             cocoons around me to help me 
         change, grow, become
i am pulled in
        to the circle.
to my right and left are 
         women of faith, anchors and believers,
and at their sides are more 
           faithful pilgrims holding hands
     in prayers and love.
circles are easy to wrap around 
         someone in the middle, 
like one giant embrace.
         circles spiral into existence 
             around the ones who stand
          strengthen the newcomer, 
      and then expand like rising dough,
making room for another to stand 
          at the right or left of a sister 
              who needs a new hand to hold.

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Circle of Sisters by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

unexpected sister

Hi everyone,
This poem is about reaching out to others in need, whether we know them or not. It’s important to let the Holy Spirit guide us to give someone the words they need to hear or show them the kindness they need to see to keep going and move toward healing.
God bless!

“unexpected sister”
She sits
one seat next to me in church.
she’s not from here, but smiles in spite of
the whirl of English she can’t always understand.
she’s from far, far south in a country with a language
I have no idea how to speak,
but she knows the prayers, sings the songs,
closes her eyes in the music and lifts up her hands
reaching up for our God who knows no boundary
no country line, no language barrier.
When we pray, she curls over like an autumn leaf.
I have my eyes closed, but I hear she is crying.
I do not know her language,
I do not know her story,
but in that moment, the Spirit makes us
unexpected sisters
and I can offer her a comforting hug.
silent, no words, just the touch
of a person who cares.
I still do not know her story behind her tears.
I do not need to.
In that moment, all that was needed
was the comfort of family,
that quiet presence beside us
to show us we’re not alone.
Someday I may be the one
sitting there lost and fragile
and full of tears,
but I am not afraid of being alone.
I trust in the God who sends
unexpected sister or brothers
to let us know His family
is all around.
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unexpected sister by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.