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to become her
I used to watch them pass by years ago
Long for their stride, their beauty, their pride
The scent that lingered as they walked by
Echoing within my soul, caressing my sides
I used to watch them shout
Across courtyards and barricades
Their voices loud, erupting like a hurricane
I watched as they ached for justice, leaning on a window pane
I used to wonder when my hair would grow long, touch my toes, and linger on
I wanted their courage, their strength, their guts
To bleed a bright red, though not from a cut
I could only imagine how great it would feel
To bear a weight on my chest
Made of clay not of steel
I’d feel like a woman, like the brave ones i'd seen
I'd be curvy and strong, yet still kind and lean
Though I've learned now that what makes a woman isn't the scent she sprays,
The lipstick she wears,
Or her soft gentle gaze
I had become a women when my mind was my own
I thought for myself, spoke with tone
My heart was content with the body I knew
I loved every scar, every freckle when nude
I laughed till I cried and I loved till I broke
I became a women the day I knew
My young self would glance up and say
“Look at you”.
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This is a deeply personal piece encapsulating what it felt like to admire grown women at a young age. To fantacize about my future and what it meant to feel pretty, appreciated, and deserving of taking on such a role.