Those fierce, beautiful women wrestled truth, injustice, the odd policeman, she wrestled nappies and pretended she was sane. They burnt bras, she burnt bridges; a few more everyday.
Through the years she staged her own quiet rebellions. Small, unseen, silent acts of rage.
Bought the wrong coffee. Fed glorious pigeons that ate his seeds. Accidentally missed buses, stole nights away with friends.
Gave their daughter the train fare. And her blessing.
The night she ran away.