"Gabrielle" was a name falling from my grandmother's lips,
as I was rushed to the NICU, the doctors asked my name,
and my grandmother uttered a word that was more like a promise.

Gabrielle is the female form of Gabriel, the angel that brought the news of the birth of Jesus to townspeople, like how my grandmother brought the news of my birth to the hospital waiting room, where my ten year old brother was beginning to understand what it meant to be a man, and my other grandma threw a fit about my new moniker.

The name Gabrielle means "gift from god" and my life itself was a gift as no one knew how long I'd be around to live it, the odds of a tiny baby hooked up to wires and tubes. God gave me the gift of life, as I was born without breathe, my lungs not ready for this world, he gave me a second chance, and I opened up my mouth and cried.

Gabrielle meant a name, and a name meant a life, a family, a place in the world.

Growing up I loathed my name, hopping between nicknames, wishing I had been given anything else for a title, but now I know I would not trade it for the world.

To reject my name is to erase the prayer that fell from my grandmother's lips the moment I was born.

She always told me to choose my battles,
but she was never really a fighter. She
was selective, and exclusive - creating
a stone fence around her kingdom, in
hopes of blocking all suffering and
trapping all the happening. She was head
strong, stubborn - liked to be right, even
when it meant doing something dead wrong.
"You keep your friends close, and your
enemies farthest," and that was how she
got by amongst those who were toxic. She
made homes out of rubble, and found
something magical when all and everyone
had left; it was a kingdom of only a few,
but it was hers. And she liked it that way.

                                   My mother always told me to choose my
                                   battles. And I never really understood until
                                   now. She was selective and exclusive, but
                                   she was cunning and realistic. Why risk
                                   warfare over the approval of one person,
                                   when you could spend your time creating a loyal
                                   army instead? Fighting for nothing but the
                                   upper-hand on some golden pedestal, I burned
                                   down the remains of my dignity and became
                                   a soldier I couldn't even look in the mirror. I
                                   fought to be the better person, all to risk
                                   becoming the complete opposite. I chose his
                                   battle, but I did not have to lose mine. So, I
                                   finally waved my white flag high, surrendered
                                   to the will of my own. And somehow that was
                                   just enough to win the war inside my mind.

gd

earlier in the night you said to me, "it's as if our bodies fit together perfectly... i can't understand it"

now
as i melt perfectly into your embrace
my body pressed and formed perfectly into yours
you say
sounding as if you feel refreshed or relieved or maybe just utterly content
"ah, a perfect mold"
and then chuckle quietly

you close your eyes as a look of the most complete and pure happiness
covers your soft and loving face and contains your entire body
and my entire body
and the lovely combination of both of our bodies
fitting together so perfectly

i hate sounding cliché
but i don't know how else to go about saying you complete me

you complete me, darling
you complete me

I wish I knew
The reason you stopped trying
To find any remains
Of the body you left behind
Your beautiful soul still lingers
Could I be the reason?
I should have noticed, right?
I was always there for you
Oh, how I wish you knew
You do not go away
And I miss you day by day.
Six months is a long time
It feels like I got the news yesterday
My mind is jumbled with questions
Like
Why is it always the ones that everybody loves
That have to leave too soon?
I miss you, forever
But somehow
Over this last half a year
I have discovered more about myself
Than I ever could have imagined.
Thank you for giving me that opportunity
Even if it was painful for everyone.
But we all embraced each other's agony
And you taught us that lesson.
I may never stop missing you
But I will also
Never stop thanking you.

do you mean to tell me, Sir, that the turn of a century
means a change in our ways?
that the start of a new millennia will successively bring
a new wave of respect for me?

don't look so ******* sour darlin', I didn't hurt you
3 hours ago, with the walk home I take everyday,
comes the abuse I must also take daily
and my inner monologue is drowning every ounce of self control I hold
but my fearful mouth is paralysed by the anxiety
or is it the fear that has been built into my body
since the day I was born, to tell me never to resist
to the cat calls, the wolf whistles, the rowdy drunken men
shouting at me, always shouting

*******, love, it was only a compliment
A compliment.
Is dehumanising me, demoralising me, and leaving me afraid
supposed to fill my heart with delight? Or the utmost fear.
You knew which you would inflict upon me. You always know.
My palms are sweaty as I walk away, I try to stay calm.
If you see me cry. You see me weak. You will try to attack.

be careful walking home if it's dark, keep something small and sharp with you
would my parents have chanted this mantra to me,
each and every day
had they conceived a boy? No.
Would my gut be plagued with pain and fright
at the thought of crossing a group of boys
in the blackness of night
if I was not a woman? No.
Do I deserve this? In a society  that

*Being a woman is frightful. Being alive in this time, is the most painful thing
I will ever have to endure.
But boys. Don't you forget.
I may be young, and slightly feeble now.
But I am a lioness.
I am growing. I am sharpening my teeth and claws.

I am ready. Do not push me too far. I am ready, to pounce and
to destroy all that has ever sought to destroy me
I am strong. I am stronger than you, and any male
that has ever tried to break me.
You are nothing but putrid boys.
I will not back down. I will not stand around
and watch you attack my sisters.
I am a woman.
And yes, you should be scared.

Newton told me that an object in motion tends to stay in motion,
but can he explain why my mind wanders
around the massive uncertainties of this universe
while my feet are kept planted in place?

He mentioned something about my mass and acceleration
creating some explainable force, but how can he account
for the way my heart flutters for miles
just by looking into his eyes?

What force am I creating
other than the force of utter, prodigal passion
that can neither be measured nor equated?
But maybe he got one thing right:

He mentioned something about every action
resulting in an opposite and equal reaction -
so is that why I go from feeling so much
to feeling nothing at all?

gd