1/

I am pee and vomit, bad skin and old lemons.
I am pain and nausea, sick and sour. I am angry
but I can’t express it as I wish because, like the sun,
I burn. I am hot without water or comfort. I am mean
and nuclear. I am my mother’s anger and I hide in the
shade of it, afraid of admitting to it, and also being
this selfish and mean and caring only for myself and
not caring who I hurt and I hold it down, myself.
I am the one who does this to myself because
I was never allowed to see it or be it or say it.

2/

I am fuzzy sweaters and lip gloss, the pink part of me
that’s feminine and nice. Makeup and wash your face.
Be quiet. Be good. You will get your reward in heaven.
Sacrifice. Offer it up. This is how we survive. It gives
the gift of patience, of waiting, of knowing what is risky,
when to hide. It is tougher than pink seems to be because
it’s the color of my skin and this is vulnerable, and it takes
courage to let someone in. This is an authentic pink that is
not afraid to be afraid, not angry about anger, not
overwhelmed by overwhelm. A woman warrior.

3/

I am bright and bold. I come in green like leaves in spring
when everything sings, is new. I am delicate. I have many
tiny parts. I have traveled far. I am what shows when
I am not afraid to be fragile. I turn burnt orange in fall,
not red like fire because I have learned how to be beautiful
and sharp together. I am a glory, a celebration, a wind
rising, a desert in bloom after a century of doubt. I speak.
I listen. I take it all in. I am not afraid to let it all out.

4/

I am becoming who I dreamt of being all those years ago:
the girl by the pond, the girl in the trees, the young woman
who had her first period by the sea, the woman who wrote,
the one who studied and thought deeply, the woman who wanted
to be free, the one who loved mothering and the one who taught
transformatively, the woman who was bold enough to leave,
the one strong enough to regain her balance, the woman who
kept going, the one who believed, the woman who knew deep
down she had gifts for the world that would grow from her parts
because every part was a seed.

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