There is little honor for the woman who jumps her own ship.
The ship she built with her own two hands, assuming the position as captain over, and inviting those near and far to board.
This ship she navigated while ignoring warnings of troubled seas,
tuning out the cries of those forced to walk the plank.
This same ship she already acknowledged as sinking and declared her commitment to going down with – to seeing it through to the end.
A ship whose belly is filled with slaves – eager and vulnerable men and women whose trust has championed her cause, all along.
There is little honor for the woman who has stood at the bow of privilege, consuming choice experiences and delighting in magnificent panoramic views, while her servants reside in the hull, eating scraps and surviving while she herself is thriving.
There is little honor for the woman who sneaks away on a vessel in the night- drumming up encouragement and accolades from blind fans and ignorant followers, in hopes of keeping her spirit lifted from the weight that reveals her cowardice.
As her ship submerges, her own survival is her only value.
Show me a woman who is willing to humbly confess she has lead her ship astray, and I will show you a true captain of men- a noble leader, an authentic human spirit.
Show me a woman who is willing to be confronted by her own practices, brought face-to-face with the actions of her own heart, and I will show you a woman who is braver than a Spartan, more honorable than a good Queen.
Show me both a humble and courageous woman who does not fear failure, but only fears deception, and I will show you what it means to be a Matriarch.