I wrote this poem a while ago. Before quitting my job. Before taking regular walks in the country, and before gathering weekly with a circle of my soul sisters. I dedicate it to all the women of the world searching for their voice and their freedom– from the boardroom to the bedroom to the backyard. Happy Women’s Day, sisters.
Freedom
Being a strong, authentic, and assertive woman
as well as a good mother
and wife
and daughter
and neighbor
and citizen
and friend
is so fucking hard.
I want to undo the word good. To hold it in my hand like a fuzzy dandelion and blow all its trappings to the wind.
Poof. Gone.
No longer needed, I want to take hold of the lash’s tail, and with newfound Herculean strength, send the whip master flying through space
to be lost forever
I want to purge the shame and the guilt that have taken root in my being and poisoned my spirit for so long. I want to rip their heaviness out of my depths and tend to the wounded space they hoarded.
I want to scream and flail and shake out of my skin like a
snake possessed
Feeling Rawness and Emptiness, I will birth new cells.
Growing my hair long and letting it tangle, coloring my naked feet with the earth, I will listen for my gut-master.
Devouring her teachings, I will compassionately disappoint,
keeping my compass always pointing
North
Moving slowly and deeply and suckling Mother Earth’s breast,
I will cultivate patience.
I will learn to trust.
I will pulse in rhythm with the universe.