for this a woman charges towards doom
or shuts away the sunlight in her room

or cuts her hair to don the blackest robes
or pierces tender flesh of her earlobes

for this she brands herself or wears a ring
for this she cries so deep one thinks she sings

and swears upon her life to this 'til death
for this she will declare on her last breath

and pull this gift from fire without a glove
this precious thing is nothing less than love