Women who own their souls are an endangered species..

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Just some thoughts me ladies… always with love

Women who own their souls are an endangered species

Women

Women who love their souls are an endangered species

because we are told

love this man

for he is good, and the question whether he is good,  good for you

never comes.

Makes you remember the time when

you knew your real name, that time when you were striding

warrior empress

amidst the green

and red

that time alive, both the beginning and the end

and in between

when you danced

and lived with all beings unseen

It doesn”t come.

Instead

you are told to think of

morgages

healthcare

and weddings where the only things that are white and pure

are the lies that you tell each other…

because of that

you curtail your flight

restrain your bite

quell your desire

and the fire in your eyes

and blood.

And your soul forever embodies

thet numbness that comes from

formalized uncertainties

And so you give your soul

not even as a prize but as collateral to this existance

and it becomes

– even if it may have started as a venture in freedom-

the very consolidation of your boundedness.

I tell you women with souls have become an endangered species.

He was not a soul eater, a heart breaker,

a malevolent man,

but still this cannot be the best you

can be

soul free.

Your soul bound,

curtailed

wings chopped in flight

Instead, you question the very purpose of this flight

but since when did you question this movement of the Gods?

I tell you women with souls these days

have become an endangered species.

Love how your body moves, how it feels

do not keep it under the heel of a man

kind or otherwise

especially kind

for you shall never leave

for you shall never leave or live

with your soul again

I tell you women who own their souls these days

are becoming an endangered species……

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One response »

  1. That this entry was filed under “Violence against Womyn” seems important to note. This gorgeous poem seems not to describe the severe physical and psychological violence that “bad” men inflict upon womyn, but the more everyday abuse and curtailment of women’s potential and freedom that occurs through such mundane societal expectations as finding a “good” man and getting married. This poem also reads to me as a poem about aging, about how as young women we dare to dream and act big but are convinced that we must settle down and let go to focus on matters like “morgages/healthcare/and weddings.”

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