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Growing up my mama would always say

Henley, don’t forget to be a lady

As if Id just forgotten

 

Mama, I didn’t forget

I didn’t want to be a lady.

There are two extremes

Of the feminine psyche-

There is the too nice, too good

Lady of compliance

On one side

And the animalistic, fire breathing

Spirit worshiping witch on the other

And we all find ourselves in between.

 

I am a lady

There, in me is a pink softness

A gentle love of nurturing and tending to gardens

And cushioning the heaviness of a hard world

 

But I won’t forget that at the core

I am an animal, with instincts, with natural

Fight or flight know hows, who walks

Bare and black footed, unbrushed hair

And a week unrshowered.

I can eat with my fingers and howl

At the moon and protect my cubs

With the fight of a mama grizzly.

My body makes miracles

And if you get a taste

You will know I am not a well behaved lady.

You will know that I walk on dirt

That I am guided by the trees

You will taste the fire in me.

 

It is more important for the young woman

To remember that.

We are shoved into small clothes

And covered in black make up

And red polish

But we should not forget what we once used our hands for-

Digging, climbing, fighting, picking bugs and making shelter.

By the way I dance

The way I walk,

I tell her in her marble polished kitchen

Mama, don’t forget

You are a wolf.