COME THIS SEPTEMBER

Six years ago come this September
I gave birth to the youngest of my two daughters.
Angry and fully disgusted,
Depressed and filled with as much self-hatred
As my womb was with child,
I could not at first bring myself to look at her.

She came into the world not crying
Neither could I myself summon tears.
So instead, my sister held my newborn baby
Even as she held her opinions to herself.
I stared blankly out the window
Praying to God that I could soon die
While my sister stood there beside my bed
And cried for us all.

There are secrets women speak not of.
Some hurts we shovel away in holes
We dig with our silence
Until we have buried ourselves
In caskets we never hope to escape from.

Trapped in a darkness only penetrated
By the memories of penetrations
Which leave behind shrapnel in the form
Of new babies we are forced
To nurse like wounds which remind us
Of the battles we've endured and
The wars we could not win
Yet risked our lives and
Spread our limbs in hopes of doing so.

Some six years later,
I have slowly dug myself
Out of that grave
Escaped from the encampment
Of a past I can never change.
Have fought off the mentality
That male dominance is Biblical,
That I should be submissive
And only complain in written words
Upon paper in hidden journals.

But these days I am far from silent
And these days I fear not the truth.
I teach my daughters their options are endless,
So as to prevent the trials I've been through.

Six years ago come this September,
I gave life and birthed forth a change.
Six years ago come this September,
I stopped allowing men over me
To lay claim.