patriarchy

i imagine the day
my sisters will call me to say you are dead
and i will already have been far away -
as far as i could have gone from you
while you still pulled at an invisible cord
tucked under my skin by your hands.

your death would decrease this distance
for which i had fought and won, and i will know
perhaps for the last time
how much power you still hold over me -
a captured fish in a sea of destructive dependency.

and i will shrink into a ball
and i will fall down on my knees
and i will howl holding my belly
where you never lived
and i will say "not yet, not yet,
i am not ready yet".

but what keeps living will not care
nor stop living to bring you back
to give you even a split second of time
to honor any part of you not dead.

and i will gather my things
and come home to watch your resting
eyes, your body prepared to be returned
by the women that loved you
back to the powerful force
that birthed you.
that birthed me
of you.

later i will stand by your grave
after the earth completes you.

i will take off a layer of my own body
that was fed by your fear
of that part of yourself
that is who i am:
reckless
fearless
soft.

i will dig a second grave.
bury the body shocked
by shame.

bid you farewell.




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