Alright, so it’s almost 4 a.m. and I just finished my 6/30 poem. This one took a lot of time because I wrote it twice. The prompt was from the National Poetry Month group that I’m a part of on Facebook. When I first decided to take this challenge I went about it in a very casual way, all my commandments were simple things like “write poems, run, read books”, pretty bad right? So I scratched that and decided to dig a little deeper and this is the end result.
My 10 Commandments
- Thou shalt not hide anymore empty wine bottles in trophy cases beneath the bed, at the bottom of the laundry hamper, tucked between the comforter and sheet. You have started to drink more than you feel these days. It is a lulling alternative. It keeps you from panicking about the way you’ve been craving more popped corks.
- Thou shalt not fuck him again. You always offer the whole of your supple body to He Who Only Wants A Soft Place To Hold His Hardness. Your body is more than a warm mouth meant to suck the salt from his flesh.
- Think of thy mother often. Remember that she taught you as a child how to make wishes on the wings of dandelions. Now, her memory is a garden of yellow, blossoming in your chest.
- Let the secret of your sixteenth year be an ink spill. Graffiti his touch on every billboard in his city, tag his neighbors doors, the ceiling on his wife’s side of the bed. Do not strip the truth from the canvas of your flesh, it is an ugly work of art, but it is yours.
- Thou shalt no longer fear being loved and the way that means to be an open airway, drawing in that which will sustain this timid heart. You have been holding your breath since 2008. Breathe.
- Learn thy stretch marks. You have always taught the flesh on your body that it needs to be quieter, willed it to be more subtle, less fabric. This skin has wondered what a body that has never shaken a staircase or popped seams in a fitting room feels like. This body is heavy. This body has been waiting for you to be strong enough to carry its weight. This body says learn to love these god damn stretch marks. This body has learned to love its loud. This body is waiting for you to stop walking so softly.
- Thou shalt not feel like a whore for having casual sex. Be unashamed of the way your hips have been the slow curl of smoke rising from the flame of his, or her naked. You have given your moans and amens to tongues that have not loved more than the way you come for them. And oh, how you have loved nothing more than to show up.
- Try not to lose thy mind. At thirteen, a psychologist declared you clinically depressed. You have spent every year since, trying to flee from the thing that taught you how to run in the first place. You have been so scared of what happens to the mind when it tires of being normal. Do not waste anymore imagination on this. Stop running.
- Thou shalt not feel like less of a woman for not wanting to be a mother. It does not matter why you have made this decision. It is not a debate. You have made a choice that some may call selfish. Many will cluck their tongues at you, a reprimand, for not doing a woman’s work. You still vagina, still nurturer, still woman. Always woman.
- Thou shalt not exercise the right to remain silent. You have always kept your voice and opinions apart, afraid of the ruckus they’d create. Have been uneasy around conflict. You are finally understanding how to brave, how to say no, how to call an injustice by its name without a flinch. You have witnessed too many wailing mothers on the news to believe in silence. This is the part where you start voicing your opinions.
If you made it this far, yay! I know it’s a long one. Thanks for reading/listening! I can’t wait to come back and work on this poem once the month is done and I have more time to really dig into it!