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
