Underbelly

Sometimes

the poem is born from the  

underbelly where the

fire lies.

I will

write from the place where

broken turns broken

open like too much becomes over-

flowing like

river like

can't contain this 

could never contain this, like

tried to tame this

tried to train this

tried to good girl this

truth, this human, this

woman out of me, like -- 

I am learning to

breathe this body.  Learning to

move to

unsmall myself, learning to

expand.  You may not

chain me: I am

untethered,

frightened and

flying. I am

everything you fear and

living in this broken,

holy body, I will

risk

the blossom of this

too much, this

intensity

this

truth-stained, battered

transparent heart of a body is

all I have and I will
rely on her for she is

fierce.  You may not

convince me

otherwise and

my heart will 

believe these words.  Sheds

tears to believe these words, it took me

years to remember how

to pull my tear ducts

open but now I let old
pieces of myself fall like

stars: hope-filled and

sad, yet 

beautiful in the

dark.

God, make me fierce

enough to hold this holy

boldness.  Turn me vast and

spacious: unleash in me a wondering

furious love to keep me

moving                

fighting                

wanting               

speaking.

Here.