Tender And Learning

I used to live for that moment

When cruel men turned calm

Their breathing slowed

Their head on my chest

Like all their pain had vanished

In a second.

The dance of my love was based around

This fairytale alchemy

My longing to see

Their surrender

To the altar

That is woman.

Their heartache was the illness

I sought to cure

Their anger, the symptom.

Until my body rebelled

In gasping, pounding panic

Shuddering and screaming

Daughter, this way lies certain death.

The lessons, they are growing

As I am fine-tuned

Like an instrument of love.

The lessons

They are nuanced

As I tried to make him dance for me

And he just held my wrists gently

Stroked them with his thumbs

And smiled

Until my shaking subsided.

I see the lesson in the surrender

As I humble myself a little more

Before him.

I am harvesting the healing medicine

Of my love

In the abundance that I planted

For others.

I am shining, he is shining

We are all

Tender and learning

And trying.

- Jenny Wren

Let Yourself Breathe

I remember the first time

I learned to hold in my stomach

A blond-haired girl, older than me

Next to whom

I felt grotesque.

She gave me my first initiation

Into womanhood.

And ever since then

I forgot how to breathe

Innocently, like a child.

Joined the ranks

The world of women

All starved for breath.

And now I wonder

As I breathe life and hope

Into my belly

Who benefits from my power centre

Being asphyxiated daily?

Who benefits from me

Making myself as small as possible?

My womb tucked away

Never to inconvenience the world

With my life, my joy and my love.

And now she swells

With the potency of my return

And I remember

All the lovers

I hid from under the sheets

Pretending there was nothing inside me

But empty space.

Sister

Let yourself breathe.

- Jenny Wren

Sinner Woman

I am a sinner
I was born a sinner
A woman who cycles with the moon
A woman who holds creation
In the darkness of her womb.
I am a sinner
I was born a sinner
The red thread that weaves
Through the generations.
So many words
Lie like tricks on the tongues of men.
Who know not
When they call you sinner
Whore
Jezebel
They are naming you priestess
Of the ancient line.
You who live in
That dark world of the feminine
They call hell
The Goddess Hel
Like the spark in your womb
She is right there beneath the surface
Of their consciousness
Their fear as spit in their mouth
In every woman they shame.

Their words acknowledging
Your crown of power
Even as they try to bury you
And like the moon
You rise.

- Jenny Wren