having handled a hint
of that they call hardship-
i'd be spoiled, shameful, and soulless
before going through it again.
yet as i've lost myself in heaven,
i reminisce on that hell-
how horribly i suffered,
but how greatly i loved myself.
blood on the tile gave me benevolence-
ridges between my ribs earned my respect.
fear like a flicker lit a fire under me,
i'd been granted the most life i'd had yet.
the tears burning my cheeks exuded victimhood,
and my silence about it included power.
i admired the intelligence it took to hide,
and the endurance it took to survive.
at last i identified with the poets,
and sang to songs that finally twisted my chest.
arising to being alive was agony,
yet i learned to enjoy it as a virtue of my head.
i reeled in the vindicating sense of justice,
committed for me each time i cried.
every rush of red emerging in my blurry vision
was a reduction of the essential demon inside.
i'm not complaining that the universe adorned me
by turning off the wheel once i'd learned my lesson.
but once upon a time i was pale skin and sad eyes-
one upon a time i was a woman.
