Sunday, March 27, 2016

I Need No Name

I leap
leap out of my body
hair on fire
eyes flaming with the fury
of a thousand years
dagger in my hand
red-hot

And I burn
I burn every fence
every wall
every shackle
every muzzle
I burn, and watch them
crumble into ash and dust

I hack
I hack at every tongue
every hand
every eye
I chop them all, and watch
as they leak blood

And I bathe
I bathe in ash and dust
and congealed blood
in spaces that no longer
grope me
in words that no longer
bend my head
in catcalls that no longer
deafen me
in gazes that no longer
undress me

I bask
I bask in the sound
of my words tumbling free
in the sound of my feet
clattering off to places it dreamt of
in the sound of my hands
stomping on surfaces it yearned for
               
And I step back
into my body
moment of madness
evaporating
in the heat of my boiling blood
and slowly
I burn my silence
I hack at my fear
I bathe in my euphoria
I bask in my voice
I strip down to the marrow
of my bones
I bleed
I yell
I am



Again, anger fuels this. Immediate inspiration drawn from a senior talking about her experiences with gendered rules on occupying public spaces in a college, where she's attending a fest, and an incident in another academic institution where first-year students misbehaved with a female student until seniors intervened. The powers-that-be dismissed the girl's account as a fabrication, and the senior students now have a ragging case foisted upon them.

Monday, March 7, 2016

Autumn, a haiku

out of turn, autumn
bears witness: one more leaf
kneeling before time