I don’t have an introduction for this. All I can say is everyone has something to say, something that eats at you as you lie awake and read your story on the ceiling. And here’s mine.
We have nothing to be enslaved to. We are actually completely empowered. And we have always had the power:
Being young
dreams undone by those afraid
of youth
and the loss of youth,
I dressed in dresses
and begged for caresses only a woman possesses.
I take the form of that creature
fine featured
who can strike the match
and set the spark
to start a war–
though the violence ive plucked
that chord i’ve struck
has reached no one my myself, sat stuck.
My shell, my self, silk smooth
has been moved from its form
drawn by the stars in the sky
and whats left to touch are scars
dead dry
to run beneath the tips of my fingers
and cry
I mourned before
This body’s life its time
upon which i had thrust
an unjust crime
of simply existing,
twisting, writhing in my sleep
begging for features featured on dolls and dames
with painted perfection
and possessed the figure
of anything but mine.
But the hand from which this war was born
that bathed
and bruised
and scorned
belongs to no other voice or face as mine.
I’ve branded my skin with those I remember
their regrets and fears and fallen embers
and burned their prints on my hips and hands
to remind myself not to grow or outgrow
those things they demand of me
or I’ll leave them behind.
But my body you see has been scratched and scraped
and scorned and draped in
billows of hate
that don’t belong to me.
Why must I be a better version
of that person
next to me?
Why must I view the vision of myself
and not my own vision?
We forget we are a we
We have shackled ourselves to ourselves
we have forgotten to turn to our neighbor and remember
they are our neighbor
We have forgotten
that it doesn’t matter what your skin says
if your gut
your heart
your foot
do all the talking?
and climbing and walking and dreaming and screaming and howling.
and everything it means to BE.
we surround our selves–drown ourselves
in things to forget everything that we are
our drums thumping pumping hearts
alive alive alive
we are vessels, restless, fighting to show
our personal oppressors
that fact we breathe and bury deep
under piles of papers
and mountains of stuff
that it is enough
just to be alive alive alive
and feel sky.
We are not bad, we are not wrong
in this body we were born in
it is not broken
but strong
and we will move on.
We are not here to be bound broken censored
poked prodded defaced or erased.
We are not here to be nipped, fixed or degrated.
We are here to be celebrated.