(I will not be silent)

(i speak on your behalf
messy and violent)

          i cannot mutter my way
          out from under this weight of frustration

when a person is kept from her true nature through repression
her essence will manifest by any means necessary

when a human has been deprived of her own instincts
like a dandelion forcing its own growing to shoot through cracked concrete

life force
will reach
will not be denied or suppressed
will express and use whatever it is able to access
to best estimate its destiny
unconsciously

this
is emancipation through proclamation
because
          i cannot mutter my way
          out from under this weight of frustration
that lays heavy on our gender

and even though the constant fight makes me tired
still, it is required of me
I was made for raging
i am simply not equipped to keep a stiff upper lip and chin up.
I was built for blasting
this outcry is my calling

and i was once child
and now am I woman
and my mind was shrouded
and how i couldn't
understand the nature of temptation to swim in the dark pool of psyche
raised in a society that maligns impulse    intuition       instinct
for one simple reason:

these qualities are feared by the autocrat
because if released, they would undoubtedly supply the marginalized with
heretofore unseen power and grounding

to wit:
the oppressor doesn't want the woman in touch with her 6th sense
'cause he's scared shitless of her as it now stands-imagine if her channel was open?
Imagine if her prowess was loosed?

so what does the lost womanchild do?
          she reaches she craves she holds tea party séances
          plays with ouija boards obsesses over ghosts and non-
          existent mystical animals chants bloody mary in the mirror
          hears voices like an army of joan of arcs drowns like a fleet
          of ophelias in the trying to read boys' minds and now for her
          next trick attempts to make herself simply disappear one denied
          meal at a time just to be in control of any single aspect her life then
          silences the rising scream inside with any prescription or bottle or plant
          she can get her hand on
          which is simple
          because its
          exactly
          what the ones on top want, she is doing their job for them now
                                                  that's how subversive this cycle is

she dances with reckless abandon hand in hand with abject abandonment
she wants to howl at the moon fall to her knees and be
woman.
and what of all of this inherent tendency and urgent longing and innate knowledge?
she dreams of ways that blades could unleash the coax that lives in her bones
                                                                      crawls on her skin

it is an unoriginal sin we unintentionally commit
it is a constant covering up and simultaneous longing to reveal
it is a constant numbing up and simultaneous longing to feel


it is real, and if she could halt the voices for even the length of one breath
the sky inside her mind might open and her very flesh would buzz with eternal collective memory

at least she could love herself
at least she could see her beauty
at least she could believe in remembering

and when the terrible hard wired tirade finally abated
a new
clear and
focused voice
would speak
like a hand
and guide her
from inside her

maybe its not too late
pray forgotten goddesses
haven't given up on us just yet

we can commit to resurrecting lost sisters
we can make offerings of more life
rather than any more sacrifice
instant isis and impromptu ishtar
essential esther and ad hoc astoret

we cannot forget

we can silence the insidious intentional static that keeps us from hearing our
actual inside

          i cannot mutter my way
          out from under this weight of frustration

its time to get to the real quiet
so we can finally
scream