I am woman.

 

 

Once I was gatherer, harvester, carrier, birther.

Once I was producer, property, livestock.

Once I was empty and blank.

Once I was space.

 

I am woman.

 

Then I was wife, surname, title, placeholder.

Then I was etiquette, poise, good breeding.

Then I was dull and silly.

Then I was space.

 

I am woman.

 

Next I was washer, cleaner, tidier, cook.

Next I was homemaker, housewife, hostess.

Next I was loyal and content.

Next I was space.

 

I am woman.

 

Now I am superwoman, mother, role model, executive, sex, promiscuity, competition, target.

Now I am juggler, acrobat, on-going act.

Now I am defiant and selfish.

Now I am space.

 

I am woman.

 

I will be fire—burning, scathing, untamed, but pure.

I will be water—cool, refreshing, cleansing, but strong.

I will be earth—peaceful, flowering, growing, but wild.

I will be air—whispering, roaring, soothing, but free.

I will space.

 

I am woman.

 

But I am not things

and I am duty

and I am not expectation

and I am not yours

and you are not mine.

And I am not space.

 

I am woman.

 

And I am the universe.