by Madison Owens
A poem for women who do the most.
Y’all loud as hell.
Your laugh, your smile, your fire
I see that baby. You don’t want anyone else to see that so you raise your voice like the volume on your radio
There is so much power in your word I listen to it on repeat these headphones tell the story I am too afraid to speak of
Could you make it a little louder, please?
How many times has a man told you that you’re too much?
I bet you beheaded him with the blade of your tongue.
Keep doing that.
Because baby anyone who criticizes the radiance in your booming is envious
They don’t have the the confidence it takes to love that loud.
They wish they were that fierce.
You don’t walk baby, you stomp
You don’t simmer, you burn.
Promise me the melodies in your smile won’t ever stop playing my favorite song.
There will be so many people who attempt to belittle you and I pray for them. There will be so many people in this ugly world that try to silence the earthquake that is your presence
Keep letting them know who the fuck you are.
To women who “do the most”:
Don’t you ever say sorry. Those who doubt you are only droplets of rain to the hurricane that thrashes in the color of your eyes.
May God help anyone who tries to settle the storm.
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