1.
“The Path to Freedom“
i have walked this route
so many a time
wondering if today i live or die
perhaps i should slither through
the bushes unheard
or strut the path with pride
if seen i might pay with my life
but what good is an existence
paid with silence at no price
what good is my silence
when if i don’t roar
the others behind me
would not know of the evils ahead
what good is my submission
when it arrests my voice
and restricts my strength
i have been told to do nothing
because it is good to be good
even when goodness doesn’t
reward you
but what more do I have to give
other than my devote
to all my sisters in the world
if i must walk this route
i would rather die
than swallow my roar
the price of freedom
is what my silence cannot buy
to live and exist without
a chain hooked from my sex
up my womb and
through my throat
to the root of my womanness
is all the reason i need
to walk this path
armed with claws and my roar.
⁃ to all the lionesses out there, keep roaring, keep strutting.
2.
“WOMAN”
You are prodded and poked when your body decides to reject the life you wanted to give
You watch that life drip out of you in parallel lines, kissing your thighs and wrapping itself down your legs and you know how they will whisper, she couldn’t even hold life, disgraceful!
You are shameless when you show thighs
How dare you!, do you not know that your value is placed in your body? you are worthless now, the scumbag of the earth, the other gender will never see you as valuable dear.
Now you want to cover up?
The ones that cover up are the worst, deceitful things!, Vile pretenders! stupid pseudo sanctity, that gender? they’ve been cursed, didn’t you know that the creator doomed their foremother?.
But, yet you form life inside you, kiss it and love it fiercely,
you breathe air into nations,
bear the whips of the societal expectations on your back,
wrap the scars around your wrist,
adorn your hair with the criticsms,
look at you standing tall, shoulders straight.
Your mother and her mother and all the mothers before her took you apart and screamed status quo into your ears,
Why do you carry fire tucked away in your belly?, Why can you not wrap silence around your neck like we did? why do you bellow so angrily?
Why?
Tell them that the first mother flooded the earth with water and you will too…
3.
Untitled
She is warmth and nurture.
She’s a queen—dressed in elegance
Her divinity is solidified in procreation.
A goddess–
Charged with the continuity of mankind–
She is strong and purposefully structured.
When society stretches its hands over her mouth—
She still speaks—
About the horror she encounters,
On her way—to help the young ones that straddle behind.
She speaks—
About the monsters of lust, that poke and claw at her body,
For their satisfaction.
Her muffled screams they all ignore.
When she tries to tell the piety
Or the government—
Or the society—
She is tossed aside—with no regard whatsoever about her feelings.
Like that is what it costs to be a woman.
Imagine the stigma—
A Goddess—forcibly reduced to a servant.
Society imposes on her a way to live—
The piety emphasizes on the punishments for doing anything contrary.
A man enforces them all.
To kill a rose—
You must first convince it that its petals are horrible.
With all she endures—it’s easy to feel horrible.
But my dear—
You’re a goddess—but you can’t feel your powers,
If you don’t believe this.
4.
“Four Women”
[1]
An ode to She with the woollen heart,
One with which she dabs the wounds of others and hers;
Of her spirit, she pours to heal lesions blisters impart
– And ode to all our Mothers.
[2]
An ode to She with the mind of gold,
And tinkling thoughts that tock at the tick of time;
Of her treasure chests she would feed sucklings of her fold
– An ode to Sisters just in time.
[3]
An ode to she with wavering wits,
And love enough to oppose significant calls.
Of her heart she pours in temptations sweet
– An ode to Lovers when it fall.
[4]
An ode to she with the milky-white eyes
Whose arrival, alone, whispers “Shalom”
By her questions she’d soar into brains, and books, and
– An ode to daughters when they come.
5.
“Mama”
If nine months were enough,
I wouldn’t have come out from your haven
To another, your embrace
Where you called me “child”
And I called you “mama”
If nine months were enough
I wouldn’t think about you first before every great life decision I take
Or fear what would become of you
Before the the gate of my poor decisions
If nine months were enough,
I wouldn’t feel this big hole in my heart
And want to embrace you the next time you come to time
Because your love sets no conditions
And nine months aren’t enough.
– Reword
JUSTICIA POETICUM 