Throne
You call this a communal, collective, egalitarian place I call it a vicious battleground upon it we vie for my dead father’s throne The one you occupy now carving your self righteousness into weathered wood Shouting over me when I claim blood-right, birthright under stifled breath insinuating if anyone wears Dad’s crown it will be me I learned from the best You puff out your chest frightening my fledgling self righteousness away You cite propriety, hardship, life’s work Thrown, I retreat to my secret place I fawn I relent Licking my wounds Waiting for a sign Listening for a whisper "Comparison is the thief of joy" You will not take mine Joy springs from within me like meadow wildflowers following rain like clean dirt and fresh leaves Renewal as ancient as the story of ponderosa pines imprinting on me and me on them My chubby, sap-sticky hands making forever whorls on their skin Their interlocking bark making my fingers’ first memories And the land beneath us all around us within us At the heart of every argument is the land A spirit An entity unto herself My commitment is to Her and Her alone You and I are not friends We are not equals We are not united in purpose though once-upon-a-time we pretended to be You will not steal my joy I will not let my personhood be spun into shame I will not be silenced by misogyny’s meanness I will not be intimidated by the way you wield it fling it around its ugly tail snapping a whip's stinging song You expect me to cower as I did when I was a child in your house and you stood over your own children—my friends— a leather belt in your hands The day will come It’s almost here peeking over the horizon I’ll walk away, shoulders back, head high nothing in my hands not money, nor title, nor deed Leaving you with the throne gloating giddy from the spoils of war Leaving me with nothing smiling pine sap flowing through my veins a nothing that’s everything and more
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YOUZA! This says SO very much, Caitlin! Dang. So powerful. LOVE IT!
Power.