by Kathleen MacGregor
If I had it to do over,
I would have turned to you
With my full face.
I would have spoken.
I!
I am the woman of this house!
You are swallowing the nourishment
From my body, my work.
My hands my Love.
You will either pay respect or
Get out!
Brimming with Her fire- full, fearful rage
I would have seen you tremble.
I would have seen you pared down
To naked fear and insecurity.
The same that carried you here.
The same you so desperately denied.
And, that, I might have loved.
O! But that fire did not reach me.
I who am speaking now.
Was not mine to send,
In that moment.
Mmmm! The grief of having held the fire, snuffed the fire
Just because I knew there was another, deeper story.
I knew there was more going on
Than seemed on the top.
I knew of another message you brought.
A message provided
To one who could be discredited.
For I must have been on a pedestal
To be so toppled after all…
But how that fire inside does burn!
Aching to stretch blinding arms skyward
And everyway to be seen and heard!
To burn for every woman who has ever burned and
Been burned.
O! She is burning! She is burning now!
And you
Are nothing but smoke.