It’s all still the same
Writing in a journal
folding notes to a friend
publishing a new bestsellar
crafting poems beside bed
in quill and ink
In paper and fold
As a series of numbers
that somehow could attain
morse code efficiency
with microchips
and little blips
of plastic bits
like braille
truly there
but subtly fair
the most basic woman rebellion
of always having a direct line
to a place where we know
exactly what we will therein find
the cosmic collection of women
who refused to ever let life win
because fuck you you shit
i made it through that back then
so why the fuck will now be different?
because in the long end
all we can hope to obtain
is a sense of togetherness
with the tribes we have chosen
across this planet
so lost in endless heartbreak
because the oligarchy, our kings, the ceos, the duchy, the devoted, the president, prime minister, the terrorism, the boogeyman in shadow, the reds no the blues
don’t worry about what the other side says
They’re full of liars
cheats
thieves
enemies
all you need to know
is that what I’m here to sow
will get you living the best life you need right now
to be truly happy
thrive
slay queen
Be the Austen you want to be
write poems to your besties
and skip the part where history
has to uncover your thoughts and feelings
to the sisterhood of women
who always find a way to fight our isolations
in protest big and small
cross the border
break that ceiling
find true inner peace