She dances in a field of tiger lilies
Orange and gold stripes reflect from dew
Prowling and powerful
lightfooted as a breeze
She wages quiet wars with Him
whose power comes from anger
while hers comes from passion
He seeks obedience
from his docile, dancing lily
She seeks the seafoam waves
that come with liberation
His garden is thorny
His roses are prideful
He holds bated breaths
What could stall her arrival?
He scoffs at her liberty
as she plucks a thorn from her feet
and shoves it down his throat

I saw someone today
a flash of pretty brown hair
and honey-pools called eyes
We met in a tree hanging over the river
and sang songs that touched the skies

I saw someone today
silky skin giving way to calloused hands
and blood rushing thick and dark
We met in a cavern that led to a fire
of which we both had sparked

I saw someone today
with scraped knees
and a smile as bright as a star
We met in a field full of flowers
and held hands that were covered in tar

I saw someone today
with cold hands
and a feverish head
We met in a ditch at the side of the road
and I hoped that she wasn't dead

I saw someone today
with a pretty white dress
and stitched up heart
We met at a place where we all go
and I sang her to sleep at our part

A mother is a special thing
You only get one, after all
A mother tucks you in
and holds you when you have bad dreams
even if she hasn't slept a wink herself
A mother makes you your favorite food
even though she's tired from work
A mother tells you
that you're a handful
but really means her heart is full of you

I try to be a positive person
I acknowledge my strengths, which are also my flaws
I am passionate, devoted, and I strive for self-growth
These are all great things
except for the times when they aren't;
the times when I see news articles about little girls
who were ***** and impregnated
and killed themselves rather than deliver the baby
that their ****** put inside them
I am passionate about this subject
I am devoted to working for a change
so that the next girl has the rights over
her own body;
so that the next girl has the right to choose her own life
over a life ruled by violation
and I strive for the self-growth to be patient
but I am angry
I am angry for that girl, yes
and also for myself
I, as a woman, do not have the rights to make decisions
for my own body
I cannot walk into the doctor's office and schedule
a procedure to stop me from
ever having children
without my husband's consent
without having already birthed children prior
and I am also not allowed to have an abortion in
nine states, even at the risk of my own life
and that's just in the United States
I am angry because it is legal
for doctors to stitch me up extra tight after giving birth
to please my husband
at the risk of my health and safety
and they don't even have to ask me about it
I am angry because I as a woman am treated
like I am a weaker, lesser person
for the simple crime of being born with a slit
instead of a *****
And I am angry because there are still those
who would deny the existence of unequal treatment
between the sexes
simply because they have never experienced it
I am angry because women before me
have fought for rights to their bodies
that women today are still having to fight
tooth and claw to keep
and men have the audacity to say that feminism
is an overreaction
"Not all men"
but enough that women are still oppressed
even in a society where it has been
scientifically proven
that we are capable of making equality and equity
a reality
and yet deny its necessity

Tomorrow is an abstract concept
Stagnant and tepid and hopeful
We wait, awake beneath our blankets
in pitch darkness
as the hour turns
and it is still Today

Sweetly, slowly
Held gently within the grasp of life;
Plucked swiftly, quickly
as a crisp fall leaf torn from a wind-battered tree
and left to fall sweetly and slowly
Silently, sorrowfully
does the leaf spread its veins
and crumble as it is trampled
and shiver as summers end
greets winter with silent and sorrowful tears
that lay drying as ice on the cheeks of feverish children
Carefully, cautiously
do we approach the warmth once more
the leaves of yesterdays summers forgotten
and the memory of chaste winter kisses
left to flee from blushing lips
as we grow carefully and cautiously to
chase evening flowers
and put from our minds all thoughts
of orange and faded leaves

Terrors haunt my every sleeping hour
dreams of screaming soundlessly;
heartbeat quickening
hands unseen rendering me motionless
limbs attached but immobile and awkward
eyes blurry, unfocused
but still, I see the shadow in the corners of my vision
creeping closer with every heavy-lidded blink
I hear another set of breaths
and then I am staring into the eyes of something less than alive
but more than dead
because the dead do not whisper my name so sensually in my ear
and the dead do not caress my face
and smile horrific smiles down at me as I shriek
and no one hears