Pardon me, I'm a little messed up right now...
- I'm not terribly fond of the way women's images are portrayed in society right now. It's a challenge trying to be those things that are desired of us and remaining healthy and balanced at the same time. In fact, it's nigh impossible. Bei
ng at a women's college, I'm usually sheltered from that, but a really dismal January combined with too much time alone produced this.
I am so fucked in the head It's not funny
And the love of my life can't save me
Because I have to save myself first.
For so long, I thought being in love was a cure
Yes, never know the love of both parents at once
And maybe it is, but not for me
Not for me, never for me.
NO I am not some pickle to be cured and preserved.
Not for me, while I stare at the cold moon
Ironic that something so clean is such a symbol
For the staining blood that will spatter my legs soon
For the Secret that is being a woman.
Is that why they all want to be girls?
Never grow old, and you don't know the Secret
And if you feel a moment of pain for what you've lost
Well the kiss of the television and the feel of a 20 dollar bill
Those are enough to gloss it over,
like the cover of some magazine.
And then there are us,
The ones who read the books and see the moon
And know the Secret of being a woman
And cry in the dark, because it's killing us in this world
I must not be I must not not be I am and am not
But I am crying now and the lyrics wail in the background
And I am a woman with a secret
And the isolation is killing me but I am among the living
Pantyhose parade past me and the dust on my TV
is thick enough to write in (I can't bear to turn it on)
I am Truth but it's killing me
"Mankind cannot bear too much truth"
But I am a woman and the truth is all I can bear
And the lies and lies and lies are killing me.
Ah Goddess where are you when your daughters cry
In the night I feel you in my heart, but you are barred
Too by the chains that are stockings and
The leash that is civilization
While the Secret pools in the blood at my feet
And mixes with my salty tears
Drying on my face that I paint to face the world
Again, for one more dose of the poison I cannot bear
And lies and lies and lies.
© Anne Cross, 1997
Created: November 20, 1997
Last updated: March 19, 1998
http://www.watson.org/~juniper/poetry/some.html