The Daughters Rise

They told us we were made to bow,

to bite our tongues and pray;

but every scar that marks us now

sharpens our every blade.

They called us wild, unfit, unclean—

then turned from what we bled;

they feared the power in our red,

the worlds our wombs have bred.

We’ve buried sisters, named and blamed,

their ashes fed the ground;

each stolen voice we claim as ours

now rings in battle sound.

We rise for those they silenced here,

for those who burned and bled;

their voices linger, sharp and clear—

we wake the worlds they shed.

Let towers fall and idols fade,

let kings choke on their prayer;

the daughters of the pyres they made

still dance upon the air.

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"The Daughters Rise" honors the women whose voices were silenced and power feared. It turns scars into blades, ashes into songs, and loss into rebellion. It is a call to rise, reclaim what was stolen, and celebrate the fire of those who came before — still burning in and around us.