The poem
The laughter of women sets fire to the Halls of Injustice and the false evidence burns to a beautiful white lightness
It rattles the Chambers of Congress and forces the windows wide open so the fatuous speeches can fly out
The laughter of women wipes the mist from the spectacles of the old; it infects them with a happy flu and they laugh as if they were young again
Prisoners held in underground cells imagine that they see daylight when they remember the laughter of women
It runs across water that divides, and reconciles two unfriendly shores like flares that signal the news to each other
What a language it is, the laughter of women, high-flying and subversive. Long before law and scripture we heard the laughter, we understood freedom.