Here I am, over forty, feeling wicked strong,
I’ve found the place where I belong,
And it turns out I had it all along:
This skin, this bone, this heart, this soul;
This wonderful mind that swallows me whole.
When I was ten, I felt afraid,
Of mothers and monsters and choices they made.
So I became bookish and insecure,
I was too big and too small and so unsure,
How do other girls endure?
When I was twelve I started to fight,
I had hormones and I knew that I was right;
That the world was all fucked up and I was stuck in it,
And I’d hate you and hate them all every minute,
Of every damn day, without end, without limit.
When I was nineteen I knew I was queer,
‘Cause my body would vibrate when cute dykes were near,
And the hormones, they had me all tied up in knots,
Of “does she love me, or does she not?”
And “who really cares as long as she’s hot?”
I fell in love once, twice, and then thrice,
And the final love stuck and, meh, it was nice.
We made love, we found jobs; we acted all grown-up,
We fostered some teens, got two cats and a pup,
And a car, and a house, and all of that . . . stuff.
And then I was thirty and starting to wonder,
If I could finally be a mother,
And BANG two kids appeared out of the clouds,
And they were boys, and they were LOUD,
And oh, how I love them; I’m a mom and proud!
But those years were not about me,
I gave up my “I” and instead became “we.”
I didn’t plan to be misplaced,
The time, it just rubbed me ‘til I was defaced,
And I felt myself slowly being erased.
But the final thing to go was my pen,
And I clutched it tightly even then,
And I doodled and drew, and scribbled and scratched,
And fashioned a skeleton with wings attached,
And re-drew my feet that never matched.
Then I rubbed it all over with sparkles and glue,
And the kids helped me make her a sky so blue.
I smiled when she looked up at me,
And through my own hazel eyes I could see,
What a beautiful, awesome, ME I could be.
I’m forty-four now and here’s who I am;
Got two kids, an ex-wife, and I don’t give a damn,
If you don’t like my ass or my wings or my tan,
‘Cause I’m white as they come but I’m not made of bread
And that’s not a halo over my head.
If I want you, I’ll tell you; I’m not wasting time,
And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s just fine.
There are plenty of other sweet bois I can find,
Who will want to be held by my thighs and my mind,
And I’ll give them gift of my gaze and my time.
I am awake now, and unafraid.
This mid-life body is being remade.
My blood, my blood is full of fire,
And it might be a hot flash, but it feels like desire;
Like I just turned my thermostat higher.
I speak the words that must be spoken,
I may be bent, but I’m not broken,
Watch me now, my magic’s awoken!
Rise up with me, find your glory,
And sing it or shout it; your own awesome story.
I see you there, smiling, hesitant girl,
And I want you to follow me into my world.
We can be queens of this whole fucking place,
We can light it on fire; there’s no time to waste,
We’ve got a whole new universe to create.
Where crow’s feet and laugh lines mark us as strong,
Survivors of childhood and all the things wrong
With this world that tells us that we don’t belong.
I’m here to tell you, out of love and not duty,
Not to let anyone deny your beauty.
I see you there sauntering girl-who’s-a-boi,
And maybe your breasts don’t bring any joy,
You want bigger muscles, more strong definition,
But just as you are, without inhibition,
It’s your eyes that entice me from top to submission.
I see us all; young, middle-aged, old,
Wearing masks made of fear because we’ve been sold
A load of shit packaged as sound advice,
And I’m here to put the boot to the lies.
All of us are butterflies.
1sagefemme All Rights Reserved 2016
Of maidens, mothers, and crones; a life in poetry, unfinished 