A Girl and Still a Girl

Another oldie from the archives (somewhere around 2001)...

A Girl and Still a Girl

Look at me.  I’m a child and a brat, a girl and still a girl.  I stamp my feet, I challenge you.  Look at me, I’m close to you.  I reach out and stamp my foot, bound within its silvery cage in a tall high-heel shoe. 

I cry, but do my tears seem worth it?  I am not worthless.

I am reaching out to you.  My chiffon shuffles at my ankles.  I am a girl and still a girl. 

My arms envelop myself and hold there.  I hold myself where no one holds me.  My back curves upward and outward like an arching horse galloping and bucking, galloping and bucking. 

I realize my socks are falling down and don’t pull them back up.  I giggle, I laugh, I crown myself in faded glory. 

Hear me, hear me still.

A butterfly flapping its wings as I stare on, seeing it all for the first time.  Catching the butterfly only to have it die in my hands.

I am looking at you with learning eyes.  Look at me.  Look at me. 

I am covering my eyes against the stares, I am sheltering my ears against the noise, I am shaking my head against the disgrace.  I am sticking my chin out and raising my shoulders up.  I am defiant. 

     

I am a girl and still a girl.

Can you see me vulnerable?  Can you see me small?  Can you see me rising against the cold?

I’m twirling despite the wounds.  Twirling like a bird in the wind.  I am reaching out, reaching out to you, staring, staring at you. 

My hair flutters like wings at my back and at my face, my arms lay still at my sides.  I am contemplating the distance, the feeling.

I am a girl and still a girl.  I challenge you.