We are the women in waiting.

Holding secrets, sadness, and simplicities like sacred summons we will later use for symphonies.

We are the women in waiting,

the keepers of strength,

storing our stories for a worthy moment.

Releasing just enough to endure, for fear that too much release would disturb the

natural balance of insanity and beauty.


We take the tears of this generation, coupled with the screams of our youth & create the silence before revelation.

Rise on the stealth of support & mask it in empowerment for you to dwell on.


We are freedom and unapologetic flight,

Soaring in and out of improvised legends,

Occasionally stopping to be nourished but frequently giving nourishment.

Natural warriors, simultaneously navigating through and in the flow of love, pain, wonder.

Even in stillness, we remain relevant and reverent to the seeds our mothers planted through our ancestral instincts.


We are wine and laughter,

Honesty in tragedy ,

The chaotic acceptance that comes with change.

And that’s the thing about miracles,

They’re never meant to be understood.

And that, that’s what scares the unsure, rocks the uncertain.


But we will respond responsibly.

We will take your fears with both hands, infuse it using fingertips poisoned with our glamour and love the pain away.


Because from the chaos of a woman comes timeless inspiration.

From the vulnerability of a woman comes the ability to embrace humility.

From the body of a woman comes a madness that pushes art strokes.


We are the women in waiting.

Balancing loveliness and pain, legacy in epic proportions

We are the women in waiting,

turning survival into an art.


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