March 8, 2011
(100th Anniversary of International Women's Day)
Sometimes I know there's song
bursting out of me - not words
but what I feel, I know I can do.
It's spring and the new black skirt
fits well. At lunch my mind pulses
with the day's challenges and fullness.
Why, when I think there's nothing
innocent left in me, do my eyes
still dance? I laugh all the time.
I asked my class of forty-six
females (plus five boys in the back)
“Do you like being a woman?”
They all said yes but not much
about why. Except the clothing
is more colorful. And we can cry.
I told them feminists are just people
who want freedom - for women and
men - to be anything we want to be.
I told them sometimes freedom comes
when you choose the right path
and say, “to hell with being good”
I told them when you start doing that
you also end up with fewer excuses
and a lot more reasons to celebrate.
I told them I have no idea why
we keep trying to be younger,
when each year we have more.
I didn't tell them about the song
bursting out of me. But the way it was
pulsing, I'm sure they saw heard it.
