Her who didn't feel well but was told it was all a lie.
Her who was smashed by Krishna at the hands of Matajis.
Her who at 6 wet her bed and wore her pee soaked panties on her head.
Her who at 7 ate her own vomit so not to offend her god
for his bounty of rotting eggplant and okra.
Her who had nightmares, haunted by karma.
Her who was there but felt invisible.
Her who was told to be quiet.
Act like a lady.
Her who was told to be seen.
Her who was told to not be heard.
Her who was told she was less than because she was a girl.
Her who was cursed at 11 with blood pouring out of her whatever.
Her who was ridiculed for her breasts,
That would one day feed her baby.
Her who would shy away from friends because she and they were bad association.
Her who could not be controlled.
Her who talked back.
Her who cursed under every sneeze.
Her who protected her brother at the hands of maniacs.
Her who stood up for her friends,
And rallied the "runaway girls" to reach for their freedom.
Her who at 11 escaped a child-hood marriage.
Her who fought against hypocrisy
Her who stood in defiance of vacant vows.
Her who was blamed for men's poor behavior.
Her who was responsible for men's sexual thoughts and unwanted advances.
Her who made men forget their place in gods kingdom with her slutty side-part, breasts like jugs, and colorful saris tightly wrapped about her tiny figure.
Her who slept in basements as punishment.
Her who lied to her parents to protect herself.
I ran away from her.
I shut her out and down.
I didn't want to remember her pain.
I had forgotten about her.
She didn't matter to them.
So why should she matter to me?
One night, as I sat on my stairwell and looked at her sweet face, my eyes welled with tears of sadness, recognition and pride.
I remembered her.
She was one among hundreds.
There is no me without her.
There is no future without her history.
There is no peace in my denial.
There is no freedom in my resentment.
There is no forgiveness in my forgetfulness.
There is no love in my fear.
Because of her, I am alive.
Because of her strength, I am free.
Because of her resilience, I breathe.
Because of her faith, I love.
Because of her, I am one among many who survived
despite oppression, misogyny and other abuses.
For all she's done for me, I give her my heart, I give her my future.
In honor of her bravery and courage, I give her my word
that I will never again be quiet.
I remember her.
Because of her I have an unbreakable bond of sisterhood.
Because of her I have learned to trust again.
Because of her I have learned to love again.
Because of her I will speak up again.
Because of her I marched.
For her, I rise.
Vanessa Elle Wilde Copyright 2017
The Woman I Long To Be
The Woman I Long To Be
The woman I longed to be wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. She never gave up. She never gave in. She didn’t fret over spilled milk. She lapped it up, licked her chops and grinned a grin a good friend would grin. With a twinkle in her eye, she let you know she was in your side. She was fierce and wild and uncontrollable. She didn’t hush her steps Or lower her voice. She didn’t quiver in the dark. She faced her demons and theirs too. She breathed love and fire into the hearts of all who were willing to be lit ablaze and ride the dragon with her. She reveled in the heat. She spoke up. She stood up. She stormed the shores of despair And blew up fences of lies and deadened dreams. She shook awake the souls of those who forgot they were already awake. She stood on mountain tops Topless Bottomless And bellowed her joy Into the wind. She reached for stars And gave them to her friends as sweet treats that decayed all time and binds. She planted flowers in the sea beds and rode the waves of suffering, holding hands with fellow travelers until they arrived safely. The woman I longed to be Came to me Wrapped in snakes and leaves and honey She invited me into her home And offered me a cup of tea. She told me of her journey, of the traps and triumphs Of her loves, of her children And her dreams. She told me of her losses, sorrows and blunders. Her heart high, her head low. Humbled, polished, whole and strong. I asked her how I could be like her. She said she had paved the way and handed me a key. She extended the invitation to return home and said it’s up to me, To be the woman I longed to be.
Keep saying YES to what speaks to you, motivates you, ignites you
For these are the summons of your soul.
Follow where they take you.
Trust you will always have what you need.
That you will be protected and guided.
Even if from time to time
the lights don't shine so brightly,
You won’t hear the messages perfectly
Or see the road ahead clearly,
Put one foot in front of the other.
slow and steady or with leaps and bounds
Somewhere among the stars you will land,
though it's not the landing you long for.
It's the blast off and the adventure that sustains your wild soul.
Follow the invitations, my courageous girl
and you will go where some never dare.
You People | Poetry
a little background on this piece: it's transforming my petty anger into art. thanks for reading. -vanessa
You people with your open hearts, fierce love, wild ideas of equality, respect, accountability, honesty, generosity and hope.
Who are you people, anyway?
You must be privileged.
You must be white.
You must have it easy.
You must have never been hurt.
Never had an abortion, or don't know anyone who has.
must have lots of money.
must have always paid your bills on time.
never been laid off.
never fired for being too black, brown, white or old.
You must have always been respected.
Gone to a liberal elite college.
Probably even private school.
Your mommy stayed home.
Your daddy paid for everything.
You people with your pink hats,
you vulgar, vile, evil people
no way you had that many people at your celebration
prove it, people, prove it.
I want pictures now!
You people who marched for women's .... WAIT! WAIT!
What a stupid waste of time.
What do you need THAT for anyway?
You privileged white lady,
always complaining and entitled.
What were you marching for anyway?
There was trash everywhere. UGH.
Why didn't you clean up after yourselves?
Babies are being ripped out of the womb
women are falsely accusing the MAN of sexual assault
it's their fault anyway for their short skirts
and for being drunk in the first place.
They should be sent to jail, away from the baby
they begot from the rapist and punished, humiliated.
Why would you fight for your choice?
Why would you allow that loud shrieking voice of yours to
be heard in public, talking about pussies, vagina, breast-feeding and "RIGHTS".
Only the MAN can grab a woman by the pussy,
kiss her as he pleases, whenever he likes.
Only the MAN can cuddle up to communism, imitate a man with flailing arms, dishonor an honorable service member, cut off your money, hike your daily government payments, send your daughters and sons to be killed in wars in the name of freedom.