still in me

i sleep
twelve
12
hours every night because i have lived
so long as lion
and my lion is still in me.
i purr at your touch,
expect no help from men.

i scream
and
rage
at any restraint
because i have lived so long
behind locked doors. in tight jackets. in cages
physical and social and psychological
and the hysterical, broken, raging woman
is still in me.
i swing wildly at your tight grip,
expect no good from men.

i yearn
toward
rampage, destruction
because i have lived so long as sekhmet
and that raging lion, set afire and set loose
by her menfolk - she is still in me.
i tense at your caress,
display the strength always needed
in dealings with men.

i contract
and
raise shields
because i have lived so long as she who
broke and fled her body at the crushing
grip of violent men. and the
violated
shredded
lost-to-herself somehow-surviving woman
is still in me.
i avoid letting you see
the wide open, savannah expanse of me,
and always
underneath
expect betrayal from men.

still
beyond
each
point of horror in pasts recent and ruined
i have lived so long as the load-bearing,
vulnerable
fucking courageous
fertile
claiming sex        claiming pride
claiming strength
full of glory woman  despite _____. despite.
that i come to you with determination, hand extended
on our path
of change
as humans.