Sweet angels we are, and sweet angels we'll stay
For it was nurture, not nature, that made us this way.
Perfect curls and silent glossed lips,
A pretty face and smiles to kiss.
What are we then,
But statues alike?
Made of silk and marble and alabaster light.
No difference, no dissent, no self to behold,
Copies of the other, forced into the same mold.
Rise up, my sisters, rise up with glee.
If woman you are, then women you'll be.
Rejoice my sisters and change the light,
Let the world see you; your individual right.
Angels no more, unless angel you agree,
Free, forever free, rise with me.
From the rubble find a home, from the fire a hearth,
Or roam about wild
For choice is yours.
My sisters shall rise from the ashes and smoke
And bring fourth a world, full of hope.