Photo by Averie Woodard on


A wave of generational tales flows through me

My yoni, my body – a benchmark for every blow

every one a stamp of ownership


tales of so many that weep through me

That seep into pores

confuse and remind me

of who I am who I forgot to be


There are screams of so many that wail through me

I cry them into buckets of brown goo

dancing with the mother

the sacred brew

as she takes me home to the stars

and to you


And beneath that all is a rage


a shame


a shame of the named and nameless

the women who wiped themselves down and

pulled their clothes back on

washed themselves clean

and told themselves it never happened

if it did

it was down to us

we said something did something caused this


these tales have mired the magic

of the darker spaces

the places

of knowing





tales of the past cannot define the imaginings of the now

the screams of the many

cannot drown out the music


This is a new time

an uprising of that which has already risen time and again

a re-awakening in a way never woken before

Never known before

where will she go


Her call her song her dance is wild chaotic

It goes goes this way and that



Could you hold the man who held you down

in your arms and forgive him

could you hold the woman who betrayed you

Could you love enough to set yourself



rivers of blood

rivers of the new

born again

cells of life

brought to life


In this moment

no longer

woman, daughter, sister, child, mother

no labels

no definition

In this moment


This moment