One of the people who died with us the night we were left for dead after being discarded from an experimental facility was Clementine Naderly, an icon of woman’s rights and essayist of women’s experiences, who wrote the “Concerto to Woman.”
She was a personal hero of mine and influenced me to write and distribute words to others. She will always be remembered, and I pray she took solace that she was with people who loved her, in the fresh air under the starry sky when she passed, and not alone in her cell.
“…the ancient blood swells the cells into the vacuum of each empty and forgotten place inside of her, her womb, her heart, her liver, her muscles, her fingers and toes, her smile. Her skin thickens and sallows, only just so, as she becomes opaque with the clouds adrift in her fogged mind, where the adventure of illusions set sail to new horizons.
“All the thoughts she drizzled that moon foment into a rain formed by her own peace or raging storms, irrigating the fruit of life given from any such squall, or instead settles back to earth, dripping her ruby broth in homage to creation, the restless soup of extraordinary magic.
“Pulled from her marrow and submerged in her tissues are her urges and refrains, hurts and losses, confusions and confidences, all she reconciles in each moment with her laugh and her fortitude, as it frames her lovely face, no matter what face, for it is the face of a woman.
“Her alchemy no man can dispense, the private hassle of ooze that stains years of her life, for a man never once has to swim through his own body. Never will he howl through the arrival of matter and being from nothingness, through abrupt existence from sheer wonder. Never will a man’s wildest pain be so dearly cherished.
“She gives breath to gods and goddesses of both love and doom, created to claim and forge destinies, not born to be shrunk to a role, nor to move one’s lifeless limbs in rote duty, never guessing the deeper meanings, to find only suffering on the surface. Her grandest wish – to leave pioneers and warriors in her wake to rise up and cast a brilliance against the darkness in one’s own character that extends to the hearts and minds of all.
“She casts her spells of love and beauty across all time, the patron of sacrifice, settled too often to quiet wisdom whispered in the ears of men, who in vain seek to create the rest of what is tangible.
“Both fierce and soft, her savagely unyielding beliefs blaze for the preservation of her child in any follied context. As one steps away from the sticky threads of her cozy cocoon, she demands her values be heeded and revered, dispensed in relentlessly stubborn moral charity, given without petition.
“It is that very insistence that seeks to squelch the evils of living to her disciples that eases the days’ worries, for that is the true comfort of the world, no matter how imperfect her form or landing. Her Ursidae snores remind even Rest that she will be riled to save her cubs, her loves, her dreams, her world if she must, and yes, she must, because no world survives without her.
“Her soul is irreversibly willful and wild with the very essence of creation, no matter her seemingly foolish sense. She will always know more than can ever be spoken.
“She serves the creatures of the world with modest pride to her last breath. In return, she hopes never to have to ask for gratitude, though it is appreciation, even at its paltriest, that nourishes her spirit to endure.
“Don’t underestimate her, for that will be your greatest mistake. She is a Woman.”
-Clementine Naderly
In loving Memory…
I will always carry your words…
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