Its so crazy to realize
that my whole life
I was deluded
by others perceptions of me
and I still never changed or shifted
from my internal compass.

That I was brought up to believe
that I as a women
is less than

that I am a women is a" slave "
to the patriarchy
to how men perceive me.

As I deconstruct my old religious ideologies,
I see how the truth was lying right there "hidden" in plain sight,

how they have tried to erase the Divine Feminine
but still we rise like a phoenix out of the ashes.

I knew that religion and I were never a good fit
seems my questions were right after all,
seems my inner knowing was right after all
always
is and will be,
see they try to keep us small ,
so that we don't recognize & realize our power
in who we are as women
equal to men,
and different in our ways
for the dark feminine
is different than the  masculine.

I remember when my brother would laugh at me
and mock me
and say that I am fat
& that I am "masculine"

when really I am just powerful
curvy and strong
and a man like him,
who is so deeply wounded
can't see how me as a human being
is just as important as he is
So I will use my voice
to call out
to be the voice for women
to be the voice of my child
that  was mutilated in pain
from the men in my life
who could care less
about my screaming.

were we looking
for the feminine
of our soft hands
no questioning
the nature of daylight
is wonder, we feel it
in our touch
we know the ancient art of
cartography: love memory
death quivers deltas of tears
we taste the starvation of breath
the magnitude of gratitude

we kept the drum of hearts
alight to catch the waves of time
Anna's drum summoned Shiva,
the master of shiver
the god of blood
carrying sage scent in our hair
forgotten paths in our shapes
pink lotus flowers in our wombs
bold desires in our feet
tales of flames in each scar

we recognise each other
greet with a soul reverence
across time across space
we forgive ouselves
our betrayals violations
of a feminine truth
we wait for the men we love
we set ourselves free
from the spinning wheel of pain

we receive
we keep
what is alive
what is dead
still not born
in refused bodies:
the possibility of
kindness

we are women
we are dancers
we sing fiercely,
gently from the
chest of the moon

What is a woman?
She is too much
.
Too much joy, like her heart is a bird which beats wildly against the cage of her chest,
(the cage Adam gave her, keeping her together)
Too much pain to contain alone, a tether
To the hands of those who might abuse her
.
Too unrestrained in love that it spills into the world freely, unknowing of the price
Too free in this jealous world, that seeks to condemn what it cannot consume,
Ex lovers, or demons she dare not exhume
.
Too much place in her skin, too much shine in each tress
Too much space in her limbs, so she must become less
So much beauty and life, to love and to touch
She knows what she wants, a little too much
.
Too tender to be broken, so she must become tough

And what is a man,

But not enough

1
I’ve seen many goddesses born
but none as finespun as you, my Venus:
for if
existing were an art form, you would be the moon
enlightening me in all her silver beadwork and mystique.

2
At night, I see my beloved again
and find her body captured by the seafoam:
it’s only a reflection,
a silver phantasm dancing on the ghastly waves,
but I adore the sheen of her face in the sea.

3
I’ve seen many goddesses consumed
by the very passion that I feel for your soul:
for the moon
is only the shadow of her full being,
and yet I still drown myself in her light.

She lived safe and sound without showing up even a hair
Donning in the body, are the flesh and bone Earth's own?
She didn't want to take that with a pinch of salt,
Fathima, the first spiritual woman
rather touched down on earth with her own!
Lived in Makkah and Madina a secret wonder
No trained eyes nor born savvy nature could uncover!

The earth, hand on the heart, never did it air,
a name she lovely held close to her chest
The mass didn't know time and again
she approached mathematically but stuck
360 degrees away behind Fathima
lived in rigid encryption!

The earth turned her mighty math most fluid
threw her mammoth weight zeroing in thin and thick
only gently as 0 and 1 rubbing over this encrypted wrap-
happened to be on her own flower bud!

Closer she pressed to propel into an opening code
revealed a solid hub, the Moon shines on her forehead,
it's on her grip but into a deep base she couldn't bottom in.
It's more airy, a pure stack of rhythms, nightingale sings,
blossoming fragrance, melodious whisper through the air
singing birds returns “This way” on every new day,
ever more time and space angle in golden spiral
in this lively one-line circle home, but not yet done
one is myriad more spiral in circle, songs in fragrance
and golden ratio dance in blossoming flower.
So revealing the code a dream never been realised
Living Fathima thus behind her intact veil showed up!

Oh more, the sun too teamed up
raising the candle from the east to the west
Even went to the length in the memory lane,
striving to remember her pristine mirror
that Fathima only once exposed
long before the heaven was born!
But none could draw a sketch of it
not in the dawn cracking fast light
nor in the mid-summer's full moonlight.

The sun went on playing chiaroscuro,
the earth's beans split,
stars leapt out off her wonder bags
on the meadows and beyond the rainbow’s end.
Yet with their enduring painting in light and dark  
let alone connecting the dots they couldn't bag
her footprint even at her death.

A millennium and half has passed masses still wish
spotting her grave is seeing the earth painting the wind.  
Not a firefly nor a butterfly in Medina knew it where
yet a name generation after generation is still a buzz!
Sayeedatun Nessa, the feminine Queen in Paradise,
Fathima shifted the feminine mystique from Earth
enwrapped it back into heaven veiled and intact
the wonder is now paradise’s gold dust!

am i

physically attractive
empathetic
nurturing
intelligent
honest
ambition
hardworking
financial independent
loyal
dependable
competent
strong
tough
polite
and respectful

no
because i’m not a stepford wife

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TheStepfordWives(1975film)