things stack up,
get piled on top of her.
culture
education
religion
family
friends
advertising,
they add layers
and layers
and layers
of who she
should be
and how she
should act
and how she
should think
and feel
and look
and write
and speak
and walk
and dance
(or not dance, depending).
layer upon layer
upon layer
until one day
she just pops,
taking up much
more room than
she ever did before
and shouts
loud enough
for the folks
on pluto to hear
because she
simply can’t
hold it in
one nanosecond
longer:
~~~~~~~~~~~~
inspired by my soul mate and writing partner, julie daley.
hey, have you ordered a copy of her brand, new collection of essays, stories, and more?
if so, yay! if not, scoot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
yes, we matter. beautiful. in all ways.
thank you.
love you.
thank you, sugar, for the inspiration. xoxo
Love to you both. Yes. WE matter.
yes, yes, yes. and yes again. xoxo
Is that what that sound was?
It sounded so much like a sigh…
you know, even plain ole’ water kinda’ stings when it gets rerouted through the nose . . . you crack me up, moonshine.
And the people looked up, shrugged, and went back to what they were doing. She stood where she was and cried, sure she was alone, until she looked around and saw so many other women, standing alone, crying. Then one walked up and took her hand, and together they went forth to collect the rest.
The Beginning . . .
Indeed! We certainly do, don’t we?
yes, yes we do.