Miss Understood

"Miss Understood" was written for the Firehouse Galleries collaborative exhibit between Visual Artists and Poets! The collaborative piece between Betsy and I focused on female reproductive health. Link to a video of this poem being performed!

_____________________________

As the Dr. hands back my wisdom, he says -

“be careful, it’s a biohazard.” 

Swallowed the pill and did not ovulate for two years. 

Pain and anger suppressed to market the mask of being a -

“Good Girl.”

Grew a backbone so strong it slipped internal, so they only saw a person doing fine. 

All the Dr. could say was -

“does this hurt?” 

Women stay calm, until they aren’t; 

then it becomes hysteria.

We are all cage dancing birds, 

pulling out feathers to make ourselves lighter. 

How disjointed our bodies have become! 

A Mother breastfeeds her child by the Boulder Creek during daylight savings time. 

Eros, beautiful in the birth of a new spring crowning the mouth of the canyon. 

Maybe Freud was right, we all want back in. 

Tried to repress it, was told to express it.

Tried to express it, was told to repress it.

Songs left unsung that no one is to blame for. 

Girl Scouts recite -

“On my honor, I will try,

to serve god and my country,

help people at all times,

and to live the Girl Scout law.”

as Boy Scouts recite -

“A Scout is trustworthy,

loyal, helpful, friendly,

courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful,

thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.” 

A Boy Scout, is…; a Girl Scout, serves. 

At first there was a sound and the sound was labor screams,

then the infant who cried for safety,

and then high school contraception notes listing 12 methods of birth control; 

11 being a woman’s responsibility, 1 a man’s, 1 being both. 

A man at the bar in Estes Park says -

“I think she’s sexier after she’s had our baby”  

Meanwhile, she is across the bar taking an order and shaking her hips. 

If women grow the babies, maybe men should serve the milk.

If we all get an hour at a different tempo, then we don’t all get the same hour. 

How do we count the time for those who haven’t lost it? 

How do we count the cost of womanhood?

$1,560 on period products and I’m only halfway through this!

Have you ever run late for work changing a tampon, or a menstrual cup?

Pressed slipping silicon between fingers and tender uterine tissue?

Have you ever dropped $40 of silicon down the toilet?

Have you splatter painted the bathroom walls then asked yourself -

“how did I become so disgusting?”

A little girl looks at me and says -

“I have a third eye and it’s bleeding.” 

Together, we place a bandaid on her forehead. 

If we can feel it, we can heal it. Chikadees are getting louder.

SheWho was called aggressive when assertive. SheWho cries when angry. 

SheWho has learned it is safer to appear hurt or wounded than pissed off. 

SheWho was invalidated and accused by HeWho feared the uknown. 

SheWho makes her own and finishes the job herself. 

SheWho doesn’t have to be nice, sexy, or quiet to be loved. 

SheWho’s quiet for your comfort isn’t worth it. 

SheWho gracefully allows the b.s. to fertilize her flowers. 

If you can’t take the heat, here’s your trigger warning - get out of the kitchen.

This will take all of us reconciling with the wrongs we never committed, but never questioned either.

We lift the veil and see that which we have not yet experienced -

            WeWho....

__________________________________

Written by: Maggie Saunders (and the SheWho’s: HP, JR, ML, ViS, OLHP, TT, CF, VaS, NK, CC)