Stop
By Alexis Norman
My nipples have been sensitive
Something I’ve mentioned to you a few times
You say excuse my
Playfulness
As if that was the issue
Then you stop
Move away
And I remain still
Looking out the window
Seeing the shape of the tops of the trees nearby
Playing my happy song
As not to remain somber
Instead of speaking
Because words hurt
But so do my nipples
I’m ashamed of my body
And of my silence
I think the situation over all day
To end with
The right words to say
I’ll say
My nipples have been sensitive
Tattooed Body Parts
By Alexis Norman
I say it’s mine but I give it to them
I give to them and I am forever reminded
Work of art
That is not easy to deny
But to them I’m just a
Difficult
Brown
Canvas
The hands of a male puts the needles to my skin
But I would love for more women to poke me
To have my flesh
To make me bleed just a little
The hands
of a woman, artistically
My canvas is hers
Carmen
By Ashley Diaz
How can anyone ever think of a woman to be weak?
When I see years of hardship in my grandmother’s eyes,
With her rugged finger tips, hard and calloused,
But her touch, always as light as a feather as she tucks my curls behind my ears.
How is she weak, when I’ve heard the tales of hunger and abandonment and mistreatment from men,
Yet with a voice softer than honey she tells me “te amo.”
How can I ever think of my mama to be anything but made of iron and steel,
When she’s raised 3 generations of hard headed women who don’t take no for an answer.
How can anyone ever think of a woman to be weak,
When my mama bled, screamed and cried for me to live the life I am living.
Her voice hoarse from the battle, but her thin lips ever so gentle as she kisses my forehead.
__________________________
To The Women
By Ashley Diaz
Who apologize for things that aren’t their fault
Who laugh, when men make them uncomfortable
Who were never taught how to say “no”
You were created from the broken ribs of Athena herself,
You’re equipped with glory and war.
The moon is waiting with rifles and bombs,
For we will reclaim what was taken from us.
We will fight till our bloodied hands feel victorious
– you’re so much stronger than your fears
_________________
A letter to my past self
By Ashley Diaz
There is not a thing I wouldn’t give for you.
I know this may be hard to hear because you believe that your waking presence is a nascence and you’d be better off sleeping the rest of your life away.
But I love you.
I have never loved anyone more than I love you.
And right now you might not feel the same about me, but we will meet in the stars and talk for hours and hours.
I will make you laugh so hard the supernovas themselves will tell us to be quiet.
you will see that you could never be truly alone, because I am always here.
Please don’t be so mean to yourself, you are growing and things may not be how you want them but you are perfect.
Use your voice.
Stop being so scared of being judged, and even now you are afraid but staying silent is a greater punishment than never being able to write again.
Talk, you love to talk, you’re just scared no one will listen, but they will.
You are hilarious and quirky and insecure and most of all you are pure sunshine.
Your head may be clouded and gloomy and dark, but you, my love,
You are an exquisite light.
– I’ll be here in the stars waiting for you
An Ode to the Survivors
– Zyanna A. Rosado
This is an ode to the women who have survived.
To the women who have been let down, torn apart, and crucified for their decisions
Yet having their work stolen from them, and praised, without permission.
To the women who have been emotionally pulverized,
That have sat in their cars, bathrooms, bedrooms, showers,
And cried their eyes out for a good few hours,
Just to step out and act like nothing ever happened.
To put on a large smile for the audience because that is what is expected.
To those who aren’t allowed to wear their heart on their sleeves because if they did, it would weigh them down,
In their feelings they would drown.
So they pack it up nicely, and tuck it under their belt.
Because if you only knew what it felt like to feel nauseated, when you see how we’ve handled what you would have dwelt.
This is for the women who are resilient,
Irrepressible,
who,
despite the male driven world we live in,
Manage to always end up on top.
To the women who had their fathers break their hearts before any man could,
And were forced to somehow pick up the pieces.
While trying to stray away from finding security and love in other men.
But it’s hard when you’re unaware of any better.
And to the women who’s mothers didn’t set the best example to follow.
For the women who have been groped,
Raped,
Abused,
But stay silent,
In an effort not to burden anyone with their troubles.
To the women that just want love
But can’t find it ,
Cause these men aren’t it,
And these women ain’t either.
To the women who refuse to let a man touch them because the pain is too agonizing.
And to the ones who have put a different lens on their abuse, and use it to their advantage.
This one is for you.
This is to let you know that it is okay.
To let you know you are appreciated,
Loved,
Cherished.
That your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed
And that the pain you’ve hidden behind your smile,
Doesn’t have to remain there.
That these emotions don’t have to consume you.
That there are others who feel the same way.
That we have each other to lean on.
Because I bet you never knew,
That the women who sits next to you everyday and smiles
Cries in the shower too.
Comments are closed.