Wild Child

As a child

I was handed a box

And I was told to get in.

No matter how I squirmed and folded

I never quite seemed to fit.

I turned left and my foot was out.

Right,

My hair or a hand.

I'd twist and I'd fight and I thought I had it right

Tucked gently into child's pose

But yet…

The lid wouldn't close.

No matter where I seemed to stand

My feet would sink into the sand.

My arms would climb through the snow

The noose around my neck wouldn't let go.

The ocean above my head would drown me

But I could breathe instead.

I floated to the top and found

I had to dig my way out from underground.

Trapped in unreasonable logic,

They reached in my throat and ripped out my voice

Then bruised my bones because I could no longer sing.

They told me

Had I spoke the words they had written down,

Had I remembered to bow knees to the sound

Of the undeniable power white right bright light

Masculine overseer of my indoctrinated destiny,

Had I put my right in front of my left when I walked the tight ropes that so strategically bound the limbs of the women that came before me,

Then…

Maybe then….

I could fit in