It took years to find this place
To be woman awesome like loveís luscious clutches
To float on air without wings
To stand for a doctrine
Without validated views
To not wither without water
And know that survival is selective.
This has been part of the journey.
To separate social acceptance
From the wretched road unguarded
By the masses that embrace conformity
Like a grandmotherís outstretched arms.
It has taken years
To mold this mess of a woman
Into a mountain of miracles
Like healing waters of ancient times.
I have become and I am still becoming
This beautiful and terrible thing called woman;
Independent, indestructible, and immovable,
Fiercely flaming like a fiery furnace
That seeks to singe my starving soul
And so becoming is a pilgrimage
Into the path of persistence and privilege/
To be the woman I am today
To be the woman who must fight
To flourish tomorrow
To mend the broken bits
Of precious promises made
To millions of weary women everywhere
By countless centuries
Of unutterable unified voices,
Dangling on dreams of fragile freedom.
It took years to find this place.