Furiosa
I celebrate Furiosa and her belief in believing. Her arsenal of heart and bullets. Her fight to the end and the beginning. I carry her missing arm in my heart, wave it like a flag. Not a white one because there is no surrender here. I grab the wheel of the War Rig with her, drive my way out and back in and out again. Oh Furiosa, Godess of Survival, Queen of Kickass, with a tender heart and the willingness to hold onto dreams in a land of nightmares even when the dreams and the land forsake her. Furiosa who combines survival and compassion and muscle and an infallible will to stand tall, wear her scars with pride, shed tears, and make it to the new place which is found in the old place. Furiosa branded. Furiosa bought, sold, enslaved. Furiosa jailbreaker and trailblazer. Furiosa with a heart as big as an oil rig and a taste for vengeance and redemption. Furiosa girl child, woman warrior. Furiosa blazing the Fury Road to there and back again. Furiosa raises her armless arm and opens the floodgates. Furiosa full of black grease and pride. Furiosa who knows the fucking difference between right and wrong and will right the wrongs. We are not things. We are not yours to buy and sell and brand and own like so much milking cattle. Furiosa leads the way through herself and through us. Furiosa, her heart leaks from grease smeared eyes. Clear as a river. Clear as her vision. Furiosa knows where she’s going even if she doesn’t know how to get there. Furiosa is The Fury, and I celebrate her.