to my country ‘tis of thee

there are no words that could suffice

for the overwhelmingly fierce fire that is swelling inside of me.

quite simply,

it is a tongue twister of 

disparaging cat-calls rolled in unforgotten fear

dipped in memories of underlit nighttimes

(the ones when i would race myself to the car)

with my keys nudged in forefinger, nudged in thumb

paralyzed by my one-track mind

replaying images of what could go wrong,

shuffling in and out of throbbing wails,

of yells for help and of excruciating silence —

the tune of which Women know all too well

(there is no need for further explanation) and (this is an issue). 

this fierce fire is fed by hands clenching on too tight

to our bodies and by those too cowardly to let us live, as one, in harmony. 

(for Women are warriors that battle better together,

proving time and time again 

that we are capable of making magic in the daylight). 

We are the Women that refuse to be silenced by the ways of the world,

We are the Women that defy them. 

— by Chase Klavon