You’ve had too much control
You’ve abused your privileges
Your role in my life
Your place in my heart

And now I don’t feel as much
It’s easier to ignore you
Your manipulation

I ought to feel for you
I really probably should
But you’re not kind
You don’t even attempt
To care for yourself
Why would you dream
You could care for me

You’re supposed to be an authority
But everything out of your mouth...
It’s poison
Toxic to my system
Making me weak
Delirious
Unhinged

I took your pain as my own
And you still would hurt me
I guess that says something about you...

So I stopped feeling for you
And you hate me for it
Because I don’t treat you as my queen
You don’t deserve it
You’re not that special
You’re just hurting
You’re insecure
But that’s not my problem
I can’t help you
You just hurt me
So I don’t feel for you

Come out of your shell but don’t throw by the wayside what’s there to protect you.

What is security?
For I never felt it
in the love of others
and in my own fibers and cells.

being a woman in the 21st century is great

a past full of women who fought for us
for us to vote
for us to work
for us to feel safe
for us to be equal to our male counterparts

now i can buy pepper spray at my college bookstore

now i can learn to hate *** because i began to be sexualized at 11 years old

now i can walk down my street and only hope to blend in to all those around me so i don’t get yelled at by strange men

now i can have a one night stand and pray no mistakes happen and punch my lower stomach and pump my body with toxins as much as possible just in case

this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg
this isn’t even every struggle a woman must make

but can’t you agree that

being a woman in the 21st century is great?

i wish i could hold the things that hurt you in my hands
so i could crush them like dry leaves
they would crumble to dust between my fingers
and i would blow them away in one breath
off to somewhere they can’t reach you

I am a tiger and a fawn.
The she-wolf that screams to the moon at dusk
And the meadowlark that whistles to the sun at dawn.
I am darkness and I am light
Flipping my tangled hair to the cascading stars at night
Lifting my hands in prayer, releasing the morning birds to flight.
And I will protect them,
These birds of freedom.
I will carve their songs
Deeply into my heart
And set aside a space
Where the cruelty of this world
Cannot, ever, tear them apart.
So laugh my little children,
And sing your songs of glory,
You are safe
You are heard
And you are worthy.

When storm systems spiral inwards and collapse unto themselves,
When the coils of time move backwards,
When the autumn leaves just pile on top
Of
One
Another
Ceaselessly beaten back
By nothing,
No wind,
No love,
No crunch underfoot
Of children with their parents.

Maybe I will be brave enough
To be myself again.

Until then I am on lockdown.
No-one goes in
No-one comes out.

I handle my children as if they might disappear.

Sometimes when I am holding them,
My face pressed to their hair,
My hands around their little fists
Like so many eagles
Cloak their nests
In feathered wings,

I feel their edges start to blur
As if pulled by a strong hand
Through a silver curtain.

“You can’t have them!”
I yell at the space above their heads.
“They’re mine!”

And yet I feel the weight of being gifted
So many treasures that
I don’t deserve,
That I try to earn.

I handle my children as if someone might come back for them.
Speaking to me sternly, they will explain
“These are too precious, too rare,
For you.”
But I would not let them go.

I would come after them.
Charging like a lioness
I. Would. Come. For. Them.
Through every burning flame
And every mangled wreck
And sterile hospital bed,
I. Would. Come. For. Them.

Dragging both legs
And seeping blood
And holding the heart
Inside my chest,
With my own two hands
I. Would. Come. For. Them.

I would die for them.

I handle my children as if they might disappear.  
Clutching their tiny bodies and all their edges,
Holding them in, keeping them whole.