“You Are a Woman”
They’ve told me many things about you.
You make up a majority of the world,
you live amongst those called men,
and some say men are an entire species different from you because
you are a woman.
I’ve heard them say you were born the critical type—
the one in which you compared and contrasted other bodies
as if they’re made up of science,
and I’ve heard that you tore yourself up from it.
You drank wine in measuring glasses,
and only ate meat if its the size of your fist;
but most of all, you did not wish to indulge in your cravings,
and when you did, you cried—
you are a woman.
You get coins for every dollar.
You get weighed down from their heaviness,
and you would put the change in your pockets,
but clothing stores seem not to know how to make those for you.
Don’t speak too loud, begin sentences with sorry,
grow in instead of out—
you need to make room for the men in your life so
be gracious enough to let them have what they want because
you are a woman.
They told me that.
But that is not what I see.
You, darling, are my favorite stick of dynamite,
a force to be reckoned with,
that is not afraid to explode
to change the way things are.
I have seen you, hip to hip, with one another,
holding signs, and fists in the air
chanting,
powerful,
strong,
indignant,
as one whole person.
I have never seen so much anger at the world,
recognition of maltreatment and inequality,
voices that can tremble countries and governments, and--
I love it.
You are a woman.
But you are also Mother Nature.
You drink the sun out of its rays
and kiss moons on other planets.
Your veins are made of flower stems that grow to your head
where a garden is blooming.
Your face is beautiful,
(yes, you are beautiful),
but it is nothing compared to your brain.
It is a garden overflowing with intelligence and flowers.
I have never seen something as profound as your mind.
But when someone does you wrong,
you yank your flower petals, crying,
he loves me, he loves me not!
you give into self harm,
but no, STOP.
That is not you.
That is not a woman.
When someone tries to kiss your moons,
drink from your sun—
when you do not want it,
do not surrender.
Never surrendur.
Your hair is yours
your eyes are yours
your hands
your lips
your arms
legs
back
chest
stomach
feet--
YOUR BODY IS YOURS
and you know that damn well.
You are a woman.
~
MARCH IS WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH!
YAY FOR FEMINISM! Here’s my little tribute to feminism and women because we are so powerful and so influential as people already, but we have such a long way to go, still. This poem embodies the movement that I am proud to be a part of, just as all women should be (even though some aren’t, sadly).
I actually had a hard time choosing between this topic and one about my favorite author because TODAY IS DR. SEUSS’S BIRTHDAY! So I ended up just choosing both. He is my favorite writer/illustrator ever, and I don’t think I’d be the writer I am today without him. So here’s my tribute to this incredible man. (Recently, I performed this essay in poetic verse in one of my classes when asked to described the most influential historical person in my life who is no longer living. So this was already written beforehand, and I just wanted to share it on here.)
Anyway, this is why I love Dr Seuss:
~Once upon a time, I convinced myself I wanted to be a lawyer—that it was the closest career I could ever have while being so close to words, with good stability, money, professionalism, respect, security, but in the end, it was not what what I wanted. Over the past few years, I’ve learned that I want to be a writer. I want to live my life through prose, find peace in between the spaces of words with a pencil in my hand and nothing less. Then other times—an artist. I want to paint portraits of people and nature, buttery sunsets bruising into night, like a fresh peach that had been dropped.
Now, I love many authors and painters, people I admire and look up to, but I credit one man who inspired my love for the arts: Dr. Seuss. Yes, he was a nonsensical author and illustrator, depicting stories with cartoons and rhymes—but these are the things that I found to be fundamental when I was eight years old. It was the first time words and pictures meant something to me. That man had an imagination that was capable for two bodies; the embodiment of an author, and I admired that.
I still do.
There were lessons in his rhymes, laughter in each stroke of a paint brush—he taught me what it was like to be a writer and an artist. He taught me that there was more than the first layer, that you can’t be afraid to access all parts of the imagination to the fullest extent, that words are powerful, even if they’re made up.
But most importantly, he taught me to pursue my ambitions.
He made me fall in love with books and art and then pushed me to make some, giving me some good advice. Like, through “Green Eggs and Ham” I realized that negativity shouldn’t matter, that you should push harder for what you want when others fight back. I learned from “The Cat In the Hat” that sometimes, it’s okay to break the rules, to be irrational and to not follow protocol, but be polite and always try to fix whatever mess you make because that was what life is like.
Art is not stable.
It is not like being a lawyer in which there is set salaries, extensive schooling, professionalism, respect, but it is unique by itself and beautiful. There is no better job to me than telling stories, teaching lessons, stirring emotions through books and paintings, and I credit Dr. Seuss for helping me realize that at a young age—helping me realize what I truly wanted. If not, then maybe I would have strayed down the wrong path.
Recently, I found the book “Oh, The Places You’ll Go” in my basement. It smelt like old paper, riddled with childhood, and had stains from God knows where. But in it, it said, “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go…”
**From left to write: Maya Angelou and Frida Kahlo--my favorite historical female artists. Angelou stood for women empowerment and frequently wrote about it, whereas Kahlo rejected societal beauty standards and continued to do so throughout her life, despite the criticism.
S - How do I even comment on such a beautiful poem. I felt this poem in every inch of my body. Please, please keep writing and publish! I'll help you! Art is not stable, but your art is so amazing that the world needs it. You can choose any path - you can do it! ~ Mrs. Kopp
ReplyDeleteSarah, voices like yours are by no means common and should by all means be read deeply by many. I've set aside a few bucks to buy your first collection when it comes out, I only hope that will be soon. --Mr. Johnson
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