Now I Am A Woman


A shooting pain, here

behind my eyes

inside my nose

at the back of my throat.

Shifting fires...

in my belly!

-Where. Show me where.

I have told you,

beneath the weight of my arms

in the palms of my hands,

the soles of my feet,

Where I imagine

a black box

heartless

and void.

My pulse shortens

as I lie in mother’s bed,

but still I feel it

down my back, up my legs

in my thighs.

Sometimes there is a darkness

there are moments of darkness,

when I feel nothing at all.

* * *

Playing in the sand

on the street

I know this is my land

this is my heat

on which my father’s men

my mother’s women

have strived against defeat.

Jumping into the air

lifting on amber wind

my legs shown bare

I come back down again

stomping the earth

that knows my worth,

The dust covering me

lithe and free.

Jumping rope with my sisters

who hold the ends silently

shifting on feet full of blisters.

I let my skirt fly above my knees,

as they wrap their skirts closely

around their softer bodies.

They are much too tame,

saying they will not enter

in my tomboy games.

'We were already

bathed in the Nile'-they said.

'Given dresses and jewels

gifts and glory.

Just wait awhile;

before you are wed

you too will know these days

when you shall receive such praise,'



-in a back room

young legs opened wide

where others have cried

destroying their pride.

They did not tell me to hide

would not confide

how they had died

somewhere deep inside-


They lied.


My eyes closed by women’s fingers

my screams hushed by women’s voices

Soft women, open women

torn from the dust

and purified women.



My arms restrained by men’s arms

my belly cinched by men’s hands

full men, circumcised men

born from the dust and cleansed men.



Playing in the sand

I am covering my belly

I am covering my feet

I am covering my eyes

I am covering my

* * *

I say I am nothing

though I feel all.

A foot brush my ankle,

a hand rush against my side,

my husband’s breath blows through me;

the lashes of weeping women

fall across my face.

(Prompted by the ongoing practice of female genital mutilation where the clitoris, considered to be a masculine attribute, is removed)
EDM