I have come to realized
That I am not made of stardust
But rather just
Good old flesh and bones
That, and well-intentioned though flawed parenting
Wound tight around the darkness
That I carry like genetics
Passed on from my mother
And all the women that came before her
Though perhaps I am luckier
To be born in a generation
That’s unlearning the cinched corsets
Taking away the wire brassiere
But the marks of it stains
It clings in the way I still curve my shoulders
Inward
And smile instead of disagreeing
I find myself frustrated
Constantly, feeling like
I take too much and too little space
All at once
How does the quiet
Get heard on a planet
Of 7 billion
All craving to be seen - I do not know
But I suppose that’s why
Some of us write poetry or sing or dance
Make art - Saying here, here’s my heart
And I am alive and it’s beating a tune
Do you feel it too sometimes?
I haven’t quite mastered my voice yet
My body isn’t invisible
But it is oriental
And with my soft voice it becomes translucent
And I don’t like the way my edges softens
Because try as hard as I might
I am not made of stardust
And I might slip through the cracks
If I -
If I -
I do not know
Maybe it might be easier in my daughter’s turn
But I shall make do - for I am made of rough, sharp things
That are dark and ugly and will make your hands bleed
If not handled carefully
A mixed bag of things stained with my own history
And the footprints of careless tourists
That fail to notice,
Despite their brief visits
Some of us reside in my temple
Permanently
The visitors leave eventually
When they realize
In the pitch black of the night
That I am not made of starlight
But rather broken glass
That shine curiously like diamonds in certain lights
I have been told that girl,
You need to stop
Asking for permission
That for the world to listen and worship you
You need to make a monument of yourself first
And I am trying so hard
To worship the goddess in me
But how do I prop her back up when she’s been
Trampled down
So many times now I can barely see her silhouette
And I know that if you look far enough
You’d find that I sparkle
That I can be magnetic and regal
and beautiful - that I look almost like the answer
But I am so close to the mirror
I do not have the privilege of liking myself occasionally
I wish I can tell you
That I know how to worship the goddess within me
Even when the shards of glass
Don’t glitter like diamonds
That I am made of my parents’ love
And even with their questionable parenting
Is stronger than the emptiness
That lurks in the cavity of my chest
But alas, I am not made of stardust
But broken glass
Just flesh and bones
And they all feel
Far too heavy
To go anywhere today
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