From the earliest age, I disembroiled myself from the ravelled, choking maze of caution, confronting head-on whatever came my way. The girls and the women in my life taught me lessons. I listened and I talked to them. My gratitude was expressed in words, in poems.
If I wanted something from a boy or a man, I won it in battle. Not finding them in general worthy of words, I fought them with fists. I never started a fight; I stood my ground unflinchingly.
Beginning in North Wales, Anglesey, Ynys Môn, my Motherland, Mam Cymry, my world was matricentral. It continues so today.