maybe she came into this world

maybe she came into this world
vulnerable and afraid.
if she had no one to guide her,
she learned alone how to be alive.

maybe she grew strong,
or maybe she became weak.
maybe in her heart she wished
she had been born a man,
because that would have made her
safe.

as all others, i will
struggle against a current
in a body older than the earth,
searching and seeking and
violent to know the answers.
as all others, i, too,
will perish in this
pursuit. some are satisfied.
others are not.

i will scrabble against my
weak skin, looking for a
hole that will allow out
my need, give it a mode to
move in. turn my desire into
a sun that shines on an
unknown but beautiful landscape.

i will scream at the sky,
rip the water with my fingers—
please tell me why i hurt

i am fragile. i am barely here.
but i am also strong because
i will surface for air.

the joy in being a woman does
not come from being strong,
or weak, or independent,
or successful, or better than
a man.
the joy in being a woman
comes from being
alive.