Knees rug-burnt on the carpet
praying for freedom one day
in your high school body
and your high school face
caked with wet mascara
searching for someplace
that is home
but where is home?
Will you ever know what that is?
You don’t belong here
so you thought:
“I belong nowhere.”
No wine to quench
how parched you are
for acceptance
so hungry
for independence
you thought you were praying to god
but you were praying to me.
As the creator of your destiny—
how rich you life will be.
In your woman body
with your woman face
my god
my force
how gorgeous is your vessel now
to grow into your soul
reaching up into the sky
like redwoods, sycamores—
ever-growing so divine.
Embrace your unbelonging
so much, that you’ll belong
to everyone and
everywhere like
wind and air and water
and I heard your sobs of yearning
egg-shaped on the floor
begging for some glimmer
some proof that there is more
but you need this storm
to crack you open
you need this pain
you need disaster
so you can bring those shards together.
The pointy pieces hurt, I know
like countless shrapnel splinters
but bit by bit
you’ll dig them out
and fill the wounds with earth…
when harvest comes,
you’ll be so humbled
by how much it was worth
and instead of praying
to a man-made god
for the shackles to release—
the world folds with all your thanks
as you bring it to its knees.