Birthed deep in her womb before the beginning of time,
Was a prayer.
And beneath her shoulders unspoken promises found home.
Between her legs, melodies broke themselves free.
She met herself many times,
But was never in the habit of ever staying for too long.
In the room of mirrors,
she would see the many forms of who she had unbecome,
to unbecome- was to unbirth and unlearn
She created horizons wherever she departed,
Shedding herself
and of herself often.
Always paving way,
for the ones behind her.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Author: Iwalewa
Well, I've always had a passion for writing. I would describe myself as a feminist, a womanist and a humanist. Poetry is something I've developed a great passion for. Apart from that, I also spend time reading...although this might make me come about sounding like an introvert, I still like to think of myself as an extrovert! I love making new friends and meeting new people. I hope this blog allows others to share and enjoy my work and hopefully share their views and opinions about various issues :)
View all posts by Iwalewa
You’re amazing. End of.
Wish I could write poetry like so!
Thank you so much for your wonderful comments! You should try writing poetry- it is such a great experience. I fall in love with poetry every time I stumble across a poem I love or come up with a poem (that I usually forget to write down) while in the shower. So maybe we should switch comfort zones for a while, you write the poetry and I do the short stories? 😉