MAKING (HER)
I did not make “woman” for myself
I have learned “woman” as a behaviour
taught through a language
of patriarchy and heteronormativity
I am still unlearning
what “woman” means to you
Detangling your preferences
and searching, returning
to what I am to myself
I am free, running
wild
A body
etched with all instincts
of tasting my surroundings
my pleasure
in hunger and wholeness
a deep breath
an exhale, untethered
“Woman” is your cage
which I’ve landed in
“Woman” is your territory
but my title
I’ve learned to play the role you handed me
because it was all I knew
And you rewarded me
in abiding by your confines
Through my politeness
you call me pretty
say I’m sweet
You rewarded me in social currency
sexual currency
say I'm cute when I’m so easygoing
say I'm vague when I say no
I did not make “woman” for myself
But I fell for it
I am free, running
wild
A body
etched with all instincts
of tasting my surroundings
my pleasure
in hunger and wholeness
a deep breath
an exhale, untethered
“Woman” is your cage
which I’ve landed in
“Woman” is your territory
but my title
I was taught about sex
that “boys and girls think differently”
as simultaneously a warning
and naturalized
like sex is something done to me, not with me
But it’s okay
because boys just think differently
I was taught not to put myself in danger
by showing my skin
as if my skin was the problem
and not the gaze who endangers
As it turns out
I like to fuck just as much
I just don’t want to be fucked
when I say stop
or when it is impossible
to say no
Your rejection of my boundaries
is not my consent
It is not my fault
when you pried your way inside me
It is not my fault
I said yes
because no, over and over
was not an option for you
I wondered if I did it to myself
like I could’ve stopped you
if only I found a stronger lock
How wrong this is
when it was your choice to break in
I am free, running
wild
A body
etched with all instincts
of tasting my surroundings
my pleasure
in hunger and wholeness
a deep breath
an exhale, untethered
“Woman” is your cage
which I test the bounds
and break free from
“Woman” is deteriorating
as your territory
A title I can reclaim
or live without
And as this sun rises
kisses the curve of my back
I feel
I have not lost my softness
It is simply no longer for your taking
HANDS, HOLDING
Letting go;
She is an expression of myself, a knowing
She visits often when my grasp tightens on life, when my eyes grow accustomed to old comforts
Comforts of a younger self, ways of witnessing and being witnessed
that I cherished when I first encountered them
Being understood, one layer deeper
A freedom, a pleasure, in feeling seen
I hadn’t quite felt it like this before
It feels honest this way, to show yourself
Patiently, closer to yourself
One movement at a time
I am whole where I am and where I was, as much as I knew how to feel
But I made myself so much smaller then
Relationships built on an honest love, from and for a smaller self
What happens when I start to speak up? To show myself, again, one layer deeper
To share myself, a little less afraid of not being as easygoing, not acting with as much of a need to please
still with a tender heart
Will there still be space for me?
Will they still witness me with understanding eyes?
This space, that allows me to move more honestly, more easefully than before
it is unfamiliar to them, too
Bitter it might taste to some, and incredibly sweet to others
I can’t control this
it can only be a gift in showing itself to me
Like roots sink deep into soil, interwoven, nurturing each other
we grow into similar spaces
in the moments we’re able to hold each other, in the ways we know how
This changes as my limbs stretch to the earth and sun, as my heart grows wider and eyes clearer
as my voice grows more honest and less afraid
And so do yours
We grow deeper, together, in showing ourselves
In reaching my fingers to meet yours, and feeling our hands hold each other
There is room for us both to reach, I’m still learning this
Learning that I don’t need to hold my arms close to me to feel your warmth
I don’t need to make myself smaller to be held, valued, loved
I am learning this in reaching
Some hands feel colder to the touch than I knew to recognize, maybe they preferred a smaller self
I’m coming to peace with this, they are still learning how to share space, too
Other hands feel so much safer, more loving and tender and honest than I could’ve known
I can let go into holding each other, I can let go into myself
I can let go
IN ACHING & IN MENDING
What it is to know you in aching and in mending
to feel so far that coming close means falling entirely
in a breath far from unfamiliar while all else is lost
They tried to tell me that to hear you is to peel us apart
Perhaps they've forgotten how it feels to touch you
to know how tenderly they are held in your bones
and your blood How your voice is the clearest
most breathtaking sound
I don't think they knew how close we are to hearing you
when your presence is so fine tuned in synchronicity
that we can forget to listen
Our voices are so young in the arms of you
It was in pain where I remembered you as myself
to hurt with you to long for a home in each other
where we can both breathe freely
It is not the first time pain is a messenger that reminds us
how the soul yearns to meet our skin in recognition
I could not possibly forget you as myself
when the threads who weave our spirit together weep
in calls of pain A loving knowing that the human heart
will listen and a willing mind will follow
It is in healing that I hear your whispers more clearly
than a world still learning While my soul rests in your arms
breathing again tracing the corners of you that have always
been home
I know your voice was always here resonating through
every cell Echoes like the first sound I ever knew
