I. December
The last several weeks, the year 2016
have left so many heavy.
Hope worn down by a cruel president-elect,
with slit tongue, hissing venom:
grab ‘em by the pussy, and natives
shot and wounded by rubber bullets
for protecting Turtle Island.
II. Art + Awakening
You will begin to realize the importance
of art as classmates read their poems
the day after the election, where you all
have woken with what feels like a particularly
horrid political hangover that will
last upwards of four long, long years—
where only defiance and art will sustain us.
Art is our written medicine,
defiant against what has been.
III. Peace on Earth
Love trumps hate,
they chant into the evening,
as I watch—wondering if I have
any right to be here,
any reason to be afraid or grieve
when there’s so many miles to go,
when I have lived my life of privilege.
As the sun sets on Seattle,
I co-mingle with prayer, song, and hashtag,
trying to remove these blinders I was born with.
The women around me are strong,
this is what empowerment looks like.
One girl’s sign reads:
I believe in the good things coming,
and I want to tell her
I am trying to also, despite however bleak
things look after a tumultuous election week.
IV. Other Girls Are Not My Enemies
Girls must build each other upward—
like the strong, nurturing trees we are.
Instead, we so often uproot the acorn,
before it has even begun to sprout.
V. To Women Who Are Broken
For those who have survived,
the most important thing to be done
is to cling to what we are
with every desperate, clawing fingernail.
To not give up, to stretch out our hands
to the open moon and declare:
I am woman
And I am not going anywhere.
I am woman.
And no matter how many times society
puts its hands on me, or divides us
into our parts—breast, leg, lips,
instead of our mass and total,
we will keep fighting, because
every day we live is a radical attempt
to rescue our own lives.
Sometimes self -love is as simple as this:
draw oxygen into your lungs,
like you’d pull a lover into your arms.
Stand, and refuse to be moved,
hands raised like an invocation or prayer,
though words and violence threaten
to pull you down into despair.
