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a  path
invitation, hesitation
elation, compassion
a truth
intuition led
Sky
Today only clouds
white, blue, grey
always they hover
mingle in tallest trees
too far my eyes
to see

winter sky
pale light
soft, silent
diffused
passing by

everyday
I think
and
dream of you

how you speak
to me
never knowing
my name
a sprinkling of clouds
have appeared in the sky
we hope they yield rain
 Feb 2014 Dawn of Lighten
AJ
Stupid white girl.
We are not allowed to do anything.
We're prim and proper, white girls.
We are not allowed to fight back.
Put us in our place, white girls.
We are not allowed real work.
We still want our twenty three cents back.

The child of fair skin and blue eyes.
But with all my female privilege,
Came a nasty stamp on my body.
Like a watermark.
FEMALE.
I have heard that when a woman looks in the mirror, she sees a woman.
But when a man looks in the mirror, he sees a human.

Even with that watermark, our pale skin is used as a canvas.
And everyone else has been handed the tools to color in our curves.
Covering us in blue and black and purple and red.
Redrawing our minds so they cannot process the discrimination,
Painting over our tears so our feelings can be buried,
Manufacturing open legs when you want them,
Closed when you don't.
Erasing the lips we use to speak out,
Erasing the eyes we use to see all of this.

You think just because you held the brush,
Just because you created this monstrosity of a "masterpiece"
You get to claim ownership of this piece of artwork
That you blatantly disregard
Is my BODY.

The "fe" you tack onto "male"
Does not stand for Free Entry.
The "wo" you tack onto "man"
Does not stand for Wipe Out.

Women are barely able hold a pencil.
I was lucky to hold one long enough to draw myself
A conscience, a backbone, legs to stand on, and a mind.
We were only taught how to use the back end of that pencil
To erase our mouth and keep the secrets.
But these days the secrets are keeping themselves.

I will not be put in a glass case
You will not charge admission
To have people come and analyze me.
Buy me.
Give me value.
Categorize me.
Preserve me the way you created.

You are no artists.
You are vandals.
 Feb 2014 Dawn of Lighten
Zoe
All along the pathway,
covered in snow and ice;
I walked alone, but I
found God was with me!

...
"...for he hath said, I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Heb. 13:5
I tend to forget this sometimes.
His advances are doused
In ludicrous intensity
And devastating emotion
A sufferer tethered
To puppet strings
Clutching on to the hem of my dress
Consuming each word I say

And I,
Do not care for him
That was a dream.
It was the best kind of dream.
The kind that is so vivid,
so bright.
I could smell the sent of your skin.
Touch the scruff on your chin.
Kiss those lips which held that grin.

It was my favorite dream,
but that's all it was.
Just a dream,
and when I awoke
you were still gone.
Unlike in my dream.
Thank you for the read. Comments and criticism are always welcome.
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