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.