Another piece from my writing class… though this one is much more upbeat, and a lot of fun. I’m half considering expanding this into a series of poems: let me now if y’all would be interested in that!

Natural = Power

There’s a scattering of stars on my forehead. 

There are lightning strikes on my thighs. 

My hair weaves into a symphony 

of roots and stories. 

But this world tells me I am something to despise. 

They say my stars should be smoothed out, 

my skin, smooth as silk (the blood of a thousand creatures) 

They say my nose is too large (too strong), 

they say to be beautiful, 

I must thin myself down, cut away my features, 

and be changed. 

They say I should quiet my voice, 

to “be cutesy, be demure” 

As if my voice wasn’t meant to thunder. 

As if my voice wasn’t meant to rise 

above their lies 

when they say my skin is too dark 

bitter, like coffee. They thrust forth creamers, 

Poison, so they don’t choke on my strength. 

They cast pointed looks at my stomach, 

comparing my health  

my provision 

my satisfaction, 

to those starving in their vicious webs. 

I will not thin myself down 

for their satisfaction. 

If they cannot process my strength 

my beauty 

my power 

so be it.  

They can choke.