Wrinkles

A Poem for Women

How could I
Keep smooth skin
When my sisters
Around the world
Are dying?

My worry for them
Contorts my face
When a girl
Is forced
To be a man’s
Possession
When a child
IS RAPED
After her family
Is murdered
And her village
Is pillaged

Frown lines drawn in
By the mass suicides
Of my sisters who
Refuse to be prey
And those with a message:
That if our bodies
Are to be objects
To be used
And discarded
Then let them be
Fuel for the rebellion

Lines crack
Over my knuckles
For every time
I
She
They
We
Fought back
Fingers tired of clutching
Holding onto our lives

Deep grooves
Separate my brows
As young girls
—Our babies—
One by one
Become prey
To the system
To obey
To breed
To labor
To die at the hands of men

Oh, but my tongue…
Is sharp
And my voice
Unwavering
My heart
On Fire

Into the ears
Of young women
And girls
I speak the fury
Of generations
Keeping alive
The memory
Of the suffering
Of the injustice
Of the abuse
Of the grief
Of the women
Before us
So we never forget
The beginning
So we can change
The end.

My anger spills
Out of every wrinkle
Occupying empty space
Empty heads
Empty mouths
Still-empty wombs
Around me
Creating the army
We need
To survive
Awakening in girls
Their power
Their fury
Their resistance

And I

Will

Not

Stop.