Feminine Woman

 

I wish I could be the picture-perfect feminine woman they seek,

But I hated every inch of my skin and thought water might make me feel clean.

That was when I was only a child,

And now they whisper that I'm untamed and wild.

Some men might lust over this chest,

While puberty left me tired, never at rest.

A time when I should have been happy to enter girlhood,

But I am still healing wounds way into my adulthood.

These kind of guys would tell you,

And say, "Tumko uthwa lunga."

Yeah, because casual humor about violence against women is the best,

And I should smile, right? Or else I’m uptight, humourless, or simply unblessed.

They wield their arguments like spears of God,

Twisting faith to justify only their plot.

Lusting for bodies while fearing the soul,

Never adoring the beauty that makes us whole.

These so-called "intellectual men," so progressive in mind,

Forget their own roots, and leave empathy behind.

For they were within a woman to begin,

Only when they see the feminine within can true love begin.

I don't need your pity or that shallow sympathy,

Because you laughed and mocked me,

As if my worth lay in property or gold,

When all I ever wanted was warmth to hold.

I asked for flowers, soft and true,

Not empty power or what you construe.

I deserved respect and a little grace,

Instead of shame etched into this face.

You can ask for forgiveness to clear your conscience,

But I can only forgive in my own time.

Healing is not a clock to wind at your convenience,

And closure is a door that only I define.

This is my skin, marked by fire and storm,

This is my body, my own holy form.

I’ll walk through the moonlight, bare and free,

For this is my truth—I am finally me.