I remember
Discovering a roll of tummy fat
That spilled over my waste band
When I sat in my little plastic chair
In first grade.
Suck that in before anyone sees!
Ladies don’t have tummy rolls.
I scolded myself.

I could not fathom
Then
I would repeat that action
Once a day
For 22 years.

Now I am a lady
Who leaves her tummy roll
Happily in view
For the world to marvel at.
Proud to do her part
To make people realize
They do not need to suck anything in.

I hope a 7 year old
Realizes
She contains nothing
That needs hidden.

even her statements
sound like questions
because she believes
nothing created in her head
can be right
in a world
that is not hers

the fault lies not
in her tendency
to sound unsure
but is rooted in the foundation
of the society that raised her
to believe
she is not a full member

A familiar beat
Triggers my memory
This is a song I loved
2 years ago
And have not heard
In a while

The song has stayed the same
I am more alive
Now
I feel that pit form
In my stomach
Upon hearing the words
And no longer
Ignore it

A man convincing
A woman
She does not know
Her own mind
She needs him
To tell her
What to do
With her own life
Her opinion
Does not matter

2 years ago
I learned every lyric
Because I enjoyed it
So much
Wished for a boy
To like me
The same way
He does her
In the song

I existed in that world
For 2 minutes 35 seconds
Because it was laid out for me
An easy
Thoughtless
Happy
Escape
That aligned me with an intention
I was not aware of

I was tapping my foot along
To being lost
Nodding my head to a beat
That took away my freedom
Imagining myself
As a scripted character with no room for improvising

I trust myself now.
Am at no risk
Of letting a boy
Convince me of anything
Besides my own reality

But the beat
Still makes my shoulders shimmy
As I look around the dance floor
And see groups of women
That are still trapped in the melody,
Slipping into a reality
That does not belong to them

what a pure
honest feeling
to hear a voice
and feel a hook catch your heart
pulling it into a beam of golden light
before the brain
has time
to place the face
the sound belongs to

love lies
in the air pockets
between floor boards
that sing your song
in the same old way.
I know it’s you
before you are here.

he wears his clothes
like a carefully worded sentence
it breaks my heart
he thinks
wearing the right words
is the only opinion he needs

The excitement
The people not yet known
The feel of a group who will never be together again
Who have made a unique pulse
That lasts only for the length of the celebration
I get lost in the excitement
Let its waves move me where ever
It may choose
I am at the mercy of the party gods
I forget I have my own will
My own intentions for the night
I become consumed with other people’s emotions
Drink, drink, drink
For the benefit of the group
Rather than for my own enjoyment
To make the party
Louder
Merrier

I wake up the next day and curse the magic
That only existed with those people
For those hours
I was not in my mind
I do not remember the fun that was had
It was for the party only
It was not mine

every time
a man
presumes
to place his hand on my arm
regardless of my feelings,
I stare him in the eye
and imagine
my invisible, instantly retractable, razor sharp arm spikes
have just caused him
the pain
of centuries of women
at the mercy of men’s presumption.

when I see mountains
my soul takes off her shoes,
and lets out a long sigh.
she is home.

what does that say about my soul?
wild
proud
big
sharp
beautiful

I was adrift
looking to everyone else
for a purpose
looking looking looking
for directions
to follow step by step.

but the ones I was looking to
were searching in me
for the same thing.

the loop was at risk
of going on forever
except a sadness
saved me.
it dragged me to the dark
lonely bottom
so that my only option
was to look
within.

I came back to myself
my purpose
was hidden deep down in my ribs all along.
other loud noises
distracted
me from what I had known.
I learned to
quiet the world
and listen to my own voice again
for the directions
I was lucky not to find
when I was drifting.

I look now
not for a
recipe to copy
but for a person
who can hear their own voice.