(Photo creds. to Hop <3)
These days my words pour out as medicine.
Yet, it is not only the sick who hear me.
I swell and oversaturate the world around me because my cup is overflowing with realization and opportunity.
There is a call.
It beckons me.
I ebb and flow like Double Dutch rope.
No questions being asked
only lead or follow.
I, listening deeply, then howl.
Ripping through my clothes, my masks.
Not the ones we’ve been given but the ones I assigned myself.
That hid away my beast.
It is the wild beckoning to me in a place that’s forgotten the nature of woman.
The nature of being.
In the pit of my gut is a thunderous grumble.
I am longing to howl, curse, and spit at the nonsense.
To pluck audacity from the side snares, whispered comments, hypocritical gossip, and smack some taste back into the mouths of the dull, dry, and bitter.
Not bitter like cacao or greens to heal,
the festering kind filled with envy, jealousy, and the intent to kill.
I no longer bow to woes and foes.
My interest in politeness is non-existent.
I am the first and only of my kind.
Who am I?
To dare, to be free.
Everything I am meant to be.
You can watch from the sidelines.
Peering into the forest with hesitant eyes and wonder why I choose to dance.
To stomp around, to yell, and shout
and clap my tribal hands.
You can choose to fear but I will laugh
filling my belly with the richness of the soul
and the Earth around me.
Kicking up dirt storms and crashing down lightning.
The potency of my sound resounding.
I am a child of the wild.