self-abuse
was my whole reality.
I had internalized a culture that oppresses
the entire art of humanhood
– messiness, imperfection, wholeness, power –
to such a degree
that I knew nothing of any other choice..

when I was young, I remember how it slowly stopped occurring to me
that I could choose
to be kind to myself, to hold myself,
to put my middle finger up
at all the bullshit I had swallowed
that poisoned my womb, my belly,
my curves, my eyes, my throat,
my pussy
my heart
it never occurred to me
that these were poisons I could alchemize
into nourishment,
that I could initiate myself, reclaim myself

the hungry ghost of self-betrayal
hollows a womxn from the inside-out,
it drains her of every drop of self-trust,
it is the epitome of internalized oppression,
it is the antithesis of the life
in the pulse of our blood

a womxn’s power and radiance
rises from the graves within her
in the moment she believes
– with the whole organism of her body and mind –
that she has GOT herself:
that there is no sensation, no emotion,
no experience in existence
that she couldn’t hold herself through;
that she couldn’t show up for;
that she couldn’t grow through;
that could tear her from the armor of her courage,
her faith in herself,
or the life that she is

a womxn is reborn
the moment her body rages,
her eyes ferociously pierce through the veils,
and her mouth drips open speaking these words
as though they are the only ones in existence –
I will
n e v e r
betray myself
again.