So this is radically different in style from my usual writing and may be more slam poetry than prose. It also sounds almost trippy 🙂 but I have had some intense weeks of doing gender and rights trainings, debates and discussions around Me Too, able-ism, sexism and some intense periods of introspection in between as well. I guess all that churning resulted in this ! Hope you enjoy it….
We are just animals you and I, we live, we breed we die.
We need others from our tribe to help survive.
To gather food and raise kids and fight the monsters.
But we want to be humans so we grow flowers and sing songs of love and dance in the light of the moon.
We paint our dreams and write poetry of lilacs and blood on the pavement.
We attempt to fight a lonely and probably losing battle against entropy but fight we must
We have souls. Trapped inside these bodies. Just moments away from rotting temporary containers.
And then foolishly we mistake them for ourselves. We forget our souls or are too scared to see them.
Because to do so would force us to forget the drama and the matching clothes and the need for approval and the desperation for food and the starkness of poverty.
So we think that we are the bodies alone and so we become.
Black white brown
able bodied disabled
We have bodies which contain a soul.
The soul has no gender, the soul is always beautiful.
The soul has no shape, no colour, no taste and no anything.
But the body comes with different parts. Not better or worse. Just different.
But we make labels out of them and then we make rules.
Men and women should marry and have babies.
Which is fine, shrug. Whatever works. But then we make more rules
Men and women MUST marry and after they marry they MUST have babies.
Men cannot marry men.
Women cannot marry women.
Women cannot have babies if they are not married.
Women cannot even have sex if they are not married.
More and more rules.
Men and women should have sex only with those they marry. Because sex is sacred. Fidelity is vital.
Morality is a squiggly line drawn in the sand.
Except when it isn’t.
Ashley Madison/Tinder/Sexting/Tiger woods
Why is it called being unfaithful? Not having faith in whom? And for what?
Is being exclusive so important?
Or is it because most often it is not mutual?
And if the marriage is open then both may as well fall out of that opening.
And maybe forget to come back inside….
Does this matter?
Well apparently children can be seriously affected by broken homes.
What about those which are not physically broken but the loneliness screams at them as they sit side by side in the living room watching TV because they have nothing to say to each other ?
What do we as a society do to stop this breaking of homes?
We deny marital rape. We force gay and lesbians to marry someone of the opposite sex.
We look the other way when men beat their wives and girlfriends,
We condone it when men cheat on their wives.
Boys will be boys. Men will be men
And who will girls be? Obedient. Moral, pure, honourable, kind, faithful, quiet, loving, mothering, adjusting, understanding.
Except one day they wake up and realize that they are not.
They rampage and drink blood and dance on the bodies of demons.
They float like butterflies above this hypocritical world.
They flap their gorgeous wings. Black and white and blinding yellow.
They are the Ark and the Flood and Mrs. Noah.
They will decide who will drown and who will be saved.
Mrs. Noah just tipped Mr. Noah into the churning ocean for being an idiot and allowing the mosquitoes on board while forgetting the unicorns.
Who do you keep the faith with? Yourself? Creation? The being- ness of it all?
Bruno saw the vision of the immense infinity of the universe. He was flogged and imprisoned and eventually burned at the stake.
By the religious leaders who insisted on faith. In their word. Not in the real truth after all.
The women were there, watching.
Two hundred years later the women were burned at the stake. The villagers were there, watching.
A few hundred years later the Nazis burnt the Jews and the homosexuals and the disabled.
The world was there, watching.
Now the poor and the whistle blowers and the indigenous tribes and peace and sisterhood are in line of fire.
Who is still watching?
They will all rise.
The poor, the gays and lesbians and queer and questioning and all the women.
All the children forced into rebel armies, all the girls kidnapped and raped by them.
The smoke of their dreams on fire will swirl around like the apocalypse.
And it will destroy.
It will destroy the military complex.
It will destroy patriarchy and capitalism and every unequal and unjust thing in the known universe.
Women will again stand up and dance.
The god of destruction is half female and the dance is for real.
The dance will be danced on burning coals.
Flames, ashes, hot star white red orange.
Smoke spiralling towards all galaxies at once.
And then will come the rain.
Moonlight swans singing.
And from all that will come love, courage, kindness, faith, power.
I did not choose this life I was given but now this is the life I am having.
I have taken hold of it with both hands.
Twisted it and woven it and crafted it into my own.
I wear it like a skin. I own it. I know it. I know where the seams are. I know where the worn out patches have been darned over and over again.
I know where the dreams have been tucked away. I know exactly where to put in my fingers and rip it all open.
I know that this is garment which I can shed and will have to shed.
But before this cloak falls off my shoulders I am going to give this old life a good good ride!