Some women call themselves strong
because they don’t need a man.
I’ll know that I’m truly in command
when I don’t even want one.
I already said I don’t want to fall in love,
but I guess the truth of it is –
lust is just as dangerous.
I want to lay awake at night
with thoughts of me make me too wired to sleep.
I want to dream of red carpets,
of front page spreads,
not the spread of my legs.
I want to drink in the fragrance of my own soul and become high.
I want to envelope myself
in the blanket of my heart and sigh.
Tomorrow I’m going to look myself in the mirror and say,
“We got us, baby, and that’s the only way
to protect this gift that’s been placed on me,
to sleep sound enough to be able to see the dream.”
I’m not rejecting love.
This heart is big enough
to house a whole nation
full of ass-backward Americans
who are so quick to forget that the power will be taken
away from a servant the Master doesn’t trust.
I love men with a strength I can’t name,
with the fire that rushed forth from his gut when he came.
I love their bull-headed, arrogant,
And I love children
because they hold tomorrow in their fragile hands.
They must eat and thrive off of what we leave of this land.
And they don’t even understand
the vastness of the Void trying to reach in and apprehend.
I love other women in a way that makes me cry
when our resilience is being broken by lies,
when we make up excuses in our mind
while he creeps his way in between our thighs,
when we give up before we’ve even tried.
And this love of which I speak
is why I must reach
only inside of me
to find the strength to bring the women peace,
to bring forth the knowledge to teach to the children,
and to see the pain,
not the desire that hides it,
when a man is looking at me.
I have to need and want only me
if I’m going to succeed in setting us all free.
I really feel like this is the truest thing I've ever written about myself. Perhaps if I dive deeper into this, I'll figure everything else out.