Poetry Wednesday 04/08/09

grit

by

Lynn Robbins

I chew concrete, grit between my teeth

forever, since birth, didn't even notice.

It was in the milk, the potatoes,

the prayers and first grade lessons.

I liked it, didn't have to learn, didn't

know a meal or day without it.

And the more concrete I ate,

the more it settled -- in my feet,

took away a freedom never known,

no reason or thought to fight for it,

nor even to run away.  I did not need 

shackles.  I did not need prison bars

to hold me in, being fed concrete

since day one, being told 

all I couldn't and wouldn't 

and shouldn't do.

I strain my food now, strain away

the grit, and take a smuggled chisel

to my feet each night, working

my way down to flesh and bone,

digging a tunnel to an angry voice

locked up tight in my toes, toes that 

have never touched mud or music,

toes that ache every morning to laugh,

to run, to wiggle way up in the air.

~Lynn Robbins is a poet and graphic designer whose work focuses on helping women self-publish.

(I really liked this when I read it - I am still working on "at our core: women writing about power" by Sandra Haldemann Martz- but felt it was more negative than what I wanted to post.  Yet this week I feel it even more than normal and how it applies to  women from my generation.  I hope it is better for the young girls growing up now.)

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