Don't tell me
when I am in TRANSITION that it Is a beautiful thing
Don't sweeten your voice
Don't rub my leg while you look away from my pain
Look me in the eye
Let me squeeze your hand
Listen to the words of doubt that arise from my soul
and remember you knew it once too.
You were here
when I tore you open the first time.
Don't give me your back
Not when I need to know that I am made of something other than candies and wine.
or get the fuck out.
born to rich absent fathers
pretty in insignificant ways
reaching altitudes of false patriarchal adoration
polite and obediant
smart and dis-opinionated.
Growing, watching the world from behind their mothers skirts
Shaking, quaking with the simplest earthly rythms
afraid to feel
scared to be
secretive in their knowing
resentful, blocked diseased bodies
breasts full with over-nourishment.
Prize holding fathers that turned into sexual predators hiding behind their woes .
Raping your babies with your expectations
Tearing apart your wives with your impotence
Erectile defunct in your ability to BE
the very man that you ARE - that you deny
pre-ejaculating your essence onto flat dry land forced to produce your genetically modified seeds.
MOTHERS it is important to let your daughters learn how to PUSH
Against the conformity of YOUR self
Teach her to disobey
Teach her to voice her emotion
Show her what it is to turn your back
on what does not recognize the Queen in your reflection
Idolize her in her abandon of what you taught her
Respect the path that SHE must walk
All the while sprinkling incense at her feet
Blow the shadows of doubt that arise in her Aura
Go beyond trust of her
Enter into the memory of your unified births.
Daughters birthing mothers
into their own repressed rebellion of the woman they thought you needed.
She needs you to wake up
shake up what has fallen to waste for so long.
Run with her
away from it all.
Wouldn't that be another beginning.