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
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
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.
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