A Lady, A Child, A Wise Woman

I wanted to destroy something 

Something beautiful

To feel the hard edge of a knife

Slice through soft skin

Open her neck

Cut her hair

Stab the heart that dared to beat

Tear the seams

Hang her 

Upside down

naked

    bleeding 

        from a tree

Watch the color drain out

I wanted to watch her die

I started a fire with her hair

Threw in her dress

Set fire to lace

Curling smoke

Stitches becoming ash

took her words

Fed them to the blaze

I wanted it to burn 

Her tears

Her musings

Her laughter

I wanted to watch her weakness die

 I sat under the tree

In numb wonderment

Dead eyes staring at me

Nothing

Silence

I cut her down 

Tenderly laid her upon the ground

Why did you do it? She asked

"You were an easy target" I said

Girls have fire

That also burns

Smoky rooms

Can't breathe

It's not a killing thing

It's just a thing

A happening

I carried a thread 

In the hand

In the mind

I sewed it into the hem of my skirt

I won't hurt that girl

Not to fit into some man's world

I'm man enough to protect her

She was innocent

She was guilty

She was wide eyed scared

Clinging to God 

In fear

She belongs 

With her words

Her Lace

With her Tears

Strong emotions 

Pretty dresses

Her hair

She belongs

With her happiness

Her desire

Her fire

No, I won't kill that girl

No, I will protect her

We're sitting at the adults table now

You're talking to a woman

A mad woman

A lady

Mind your manners

Move over 

Make some room

The other day I was oscillating between gratitude and anger. Between acceptance and fury at injustice. Mostly, just feeling so vulnerable. Completely helpless. Like all the soft squishy bits I put out there were running for cover. I felt silly. I felt powerless. I felt so angry at every soft feminine thing about me. I wanted to delete all my posts, cut my hair, and burn some pretty stitches I made. It felt like the walls were closing in. I couldn't fucking breathe.

I've gotten good at stepping back from my emotions, while looking at them. To look at them with curiosity. Hold her angry face, wipe some tears. So I decided to turn these feelings into characters. Write them into verse. A true crime tale. Feeling destructive? Okay, create a bloody scene. It worked. I felt better. Then I looked at her face. This character I killed. This girl with my face. I looked at why I wanted to do her violence. Make her ugly, naked and degraded. 

"I'm sorry" I said to myself. "I'm sorry I killed you. Please don't be dead."

That's the good thing about stories. They are changeable. Just myths. Just telling stories. The sun came back out. She rose from the Ashes and blood, naked, serene, and powerful. Alive. The ashes spun themselves into a beautiful gown of grey, with thick black crocheted lace overlayed, red ribbon trim at the breast and hem. She got up as if to say it's okay. It's just pretend. Where would I go? I felt her in multitude. The many forms. There she was. She was beautiful, and fierce. Soft strength. Male and female. All. More. Many. 

I don't need to be any kind of anything to be respected. To respect all the parts of myself. I can be every bit the man in my girly clothes. Perhaps even more so. I mean how better to air my big balls? Sighs. Anyway, I like the way my long hair feels on my shoulders. I like sewing, singing, writing, and making videos. I am sensitive, emotional, and sometimes a bit of a whirlwind. I belong. Here. As all the many forms of myself. With my fury. With my gentle hum. I belong here. I am strong here. As is. It takes a strong man to love a wild woman. A scared child to kill her. A wise women to look at it all and nod for amusement, a knowing nod. 

So, what was the lesson here? How to protect yourself? Well, this week I did my regular check up with my doctor. Felt gratitude for access to excellent health care. I ran some errands. Ate a healthy lunch. Had good conversations with real people. And thought about how I can be better to myself. Ate a big bowl of homemade Pho. Drank water.  Scheduled dreaded overdue pap smear. Got a flu shot. Cleaned out my car. Little things. Everyday things. 

 Thinking of what I want to do. Kick my brain out of well worn paths. Play with kiddos. Relax. Breathe. Make actions happen instead of just thinking about what I'm going to do. Just do. Then fucking relax. Play with dirt. Play with string. Don't worry if my projects are perfect just keep moving through the mistakes. Dig in the dirt. Enjoy the sunshine. Play in the rain. Enjoy IRL. Dance with fun people. Sing. Write. Create. Go on walks. Pet animals. Make pretty things. Enjoy said pretty things. Do hard things. Pat self on back for doing aforementioned hard things. Truly, let some shit go by realizing most of it's not really going anywhere. It's okay. Invite the light to dance with the shadows. Enjoy the contrast of joy and sorrow. Have so much fun. Take care of this body. Love it. Pay attention to it. Love my babies. Give them and myself more calm structure. Give all of us so much more grace, because new things are hard things. Live! Taste. Breathe. Just Be.

Loves

Hugs

All the little things

Emmy, Mayim, and Lady Mae