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Woman

April 18, 2019 by Julia Bialek

I am woman,

my blood a map crafted by

all the strong women that

came before, that fought before.

This copper fuel surges through

my veins, propelling me forward,

compelling me to care.

I follow this map left for me.

It is my guide.

 

I am my mother’s daughter

and for that I am proud.

She is the original owner

of my hazel eyes through which

I see this world and will it to change.

It is her voice in my head that cries

If he can do it why can’t I?

And it is her actions that

provide me with the answer:

I can.

 

I am sewn from a fabric of equality,

with words as the thread that

mends lives and stitches souls.

When woven into hearts

this thread has the power to free

the tethers tying women’s

feet to the ground so we can

climb to the clouds and capture our dreams.

My cloud is waiting.

 

I am indebted to all women that fought,

all women that continue to fight.

Thank you.

The torch is now mine and

I will brandish it with the strength

infused by you into my blood.

It will illuminate the path and

serve as a comfort, for the blood

in my body and the torch in my hand

remind me that I am never alone.

My work begins now.

 

I am continuing this fight

heavy of heart.

Despite all the ground that has been

touched with light, there is still darkness.

Only when there are no more ceilings to shatter,

because we have surpassed every boundary,

explored every frontier and collected jars full

of glittering glass, will the darkness

be eradicated for good.

So I’ll fight.

 

I am woman,

A tapestry of history,

a slate for the future.

One day, when I have the honor

of passing on my blood,

my map,

I hope that it will be an artifact,

rather than a tool,

that the place to which it leads

will have been found and excavated

for its precious treasure.

But if not, I hope to proudly pass

my torch to the next,

knowing that she, too, is dreaming

of following her blood.

 

That is woman.

Filed Under: Et Cetera Tagged With: Art, daughter, feminism, Inside Press, Julia Bialek, message, mother, poem, Poetry, Woman

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