A poetic rant
We, women . . . we cling to our bodies
our sense of self wrapped up in them
and warped to nothingness by the
White men who use their minds to
belittle and belie our truths at every
corner — at every junction.
How are we to live in a nation
full of vultures?
How are we to cope?
A balking group of people has
made it their life’s work to
strip the woman of the one
thing we had total control over — the body.
And what next? What will they
search and seize and lasso into
their slimy possession that
belongs to us?
We are yclept weaker or lesser
yet they use laws to silence us — to push
us into the closets of their making.
Is it fear? Is it egotistical? Is it bullying?
What can we say about the men
who have no desire to protect us?
What can we say about the women
who support them?
Turn my body loose. You have
no reign here — it is mine. I carry it,
I nurture it — grow it into the massive
mountain you wish you could climb.
Tread lightly, though, I can shake it
and rattle you at my will.
I can crush you if ever I feel the need to.
Were these your reasons? Is this your why?
Could you no longer take the
strength and representation within
something built of atoms and flesh and blood
that is not solely yours?
It boggles my mind how senseless
human beings have become
but even more so, how drunk with
power many men are.
If it were up to me, I’d rally
the world around us to bury
your tongues in the potholes meant
for them and turn the sun’s rays
up higher — burn, motherfucker, burn.
We’d stand by, fan the flames, and
call Lucifer to your collective side.
We’d let him have his way with you,
just as you’ve had yours with us.