I suddenly realize I was blind to the ways
I had been broken. The way I pet my
Fear gingerly, like a feral cat, ready to run
From any sudden movements and the overarching
Worst case scenario that looms on the
Horizon, perpetually. As a woman, I give birth to
Both courage and cowardice. I stroke my own
Pain points. I forget that I come from a
Matrilineal ancestry that has always set broken
Bones with their own spit and love, using genetics
And force of will to heal the parts where
They have been broken. Men shout and throw
Women against the night, so I’ve cried when bodies
Sound too heavy to be real. What are we doing
Here? I want to feel entitled, knowing that I am
Entitled. Creating ladders from the scraps of
Pride we have picked up means we sometimes
Push each other down because it is hard
To be honest. It hurts to be real because power
Is pain. Let it pass, maybe, for today
But there’s always more, more more.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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