Goddess · Healing

Hazardous Material

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I wrote this poem after contemplating how often women deny or suppress their own power because of shame or social conditioning. I believe many, including myself, have felt that we lost our sensual selves along the way somewhere. The truth is that we can’t ever lose something so dear, but we can (and do) find ways to hide it away or make it more “presentable” for the patriarchy. This is an invitation to be defiant, be disturbing, be whatever they fear most, be the sorceress, be the witch they tried to burn, be the temptress, be the lover, and most of all, be unapologetically you.  

At any moment, you can call it back—
all that power you have bottled up,
labeled Hazardous Material,
and placed on the highest shelf.

At any moment, you can reach up,
wrap your fingers around that amber vial,
twist off the corroded cap, and then…

what shall you unleash upon the world?

the fluidity of your stride,
the sway of your hips,
the grace of your hands,
the bounce of your breasts,
the might of your thighs,
the light in your womb,
the alchemy in your eyes,
the goddess in your smile

You own all of that until the day you die.

No one can take anything
from she who is one-in-herself.

You can remember what you are, woman,
before they said you were unsafe for consumption,
and you believed them.

© 2016 Jennifer R. Miller

2 thoughts on “Hazardous Material

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