Don't be blind, they say,
Put yourself first. But not for too long
Or you'll be left alone, unwanted scrap
of tissue, cigarette butt, non-recyclable,
taking up space. Girl
Be smart, they say, put yourself away like a shy little flower
To be unlocked by one who is "worthy"
Be expensive, they say. Your worth lies between your legs and once it's gone
you won't have much else left
I'm reminded of deer
the look in their eyes under threat
am i to take that look
distill it into a state of being? Am i to
be warm, smooth, hearbreakingly beautiful and fragile
and live under constant guard against the Many?
How can I
when I feel cavernous, colossal, everpresent,
A mind and soul packed into, bursting forth from the puny body they inhibit
And limited by its fleshy boundaries?
claim my space in the universe
as it threatens to swallow me whole?
unchained by the weight of youth, of expectations yet unattained
and faceless futures looming
they march, dauntless and with cool purpose,
toward the inevitable. they inhale, exhale,
thank Whatever Lies Above for every breath given them
and take no prisoners,
simulating what they can of the freedom denied them by a closeted, pinned-too-tight society
one that obliges distrust, jaded bitterness towards all who dare to care
they are rulers of all
thoughtless, they conquer
leaving a trail of smoke from their lit cigarettes behind them
like a wildfire yet untamed.
nothing means anything to them, and their abandon lies just beyond the horizon, shining like a fat, grinning sun that only they
two fingers of Whisky
I hope, my dear, that one day you know what you’re worth.
that the blood now sluggishly crawling through your veins
making its way to and from, to and from your many-petaled heart
throbs with new vigor and rushes, rushes
to your cheeks, brightens your eyes
and gives you a glow from within
I hope you see when you look in the mirror
not something unkempt and seemingly soulless
but an opaque, ethereal being destined for the stars
the likes of whom hasn’t been seen
since Time chose to groggily begin it’s slow, definite march
I hope, my one and only, that you see
that every tear you shed is a little world of its own, for in it is reflected a fragment of the pain you now carry, and that
in each crystal-clear drop lies a little universe of your very own.
I hope, my darling, that when you crawl out the other side
of this restless abyss that has laid its grip on your heart
escape the mires of the faceless horror that weighs on your soul
you take a deep breath, think of me, and begin again.
the Sun comes up again
Fight it, why don’t you? just fight.
it won’t do to sit and reminisce
of times gone by, plates un-thrown, cigarettes un-smoked, skin un-cut. blood un-spilled.
it simply won’t do
for you to sit
twiddle your thumbs
and try to force out
tears that may never come.
Who do you think you are?
St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada
These 4 pieces are taken from a series I wrote on self-reflection. An exploration of what it means to me to "resist" in today's world, as a woman, a person of color, an artist. To me, resisting is in the quiet little things, the ways of living our lives. The battles we fight with ourselves are just as important as those we fight with external beings. To me, RESIST means put up a fight against any- and every-thing that would have you be something that you're not. To me, simply living is an act of resistance.