I am a woman
often of indecision
gifted with my grandma’s imagination,
grounded by my momma’s reason,
led by intuition
that always seems to help me
find my way
A heart that defaults
to open
without question,
with a capacity to love
perhaps only surpassed
by capacity to feel;
and maybe even then, 
love wins
Shoulders broad enough
to bear the weight
of a thousand stories not my own
Hands worn but gentle
They fumble
They wander
They try
Eyes curious
with intention,
I often imagine
they soften when I smile--
a sign
I hope tells others
‘All is ok
I see you
You’re safe
If you need to, 
you can rest here for a while’ 
I am a woman
who presses her face
against the earth
to feel close
to all that’s sacred,
who has written
more manifestos
on napkins
papers published
in journals
girl-power plotting
I am a woman
who is learning to trust
that I’ve not yet failed myself
I am a woman
in awe
of my body,
the same
sack of skin
I’ve spent years
trying to crawl out of
The same
sack of skin
I’m learning
to call home
A woman who loves
and messily,
who will not apologize
for the taste
of her sweat,
the smell of earth
in her hair,
the wetness
between her legs
I am a woman
skeptical of absolutes,
of those afraid
to get dirty,
old white men
in expensive suits,
red #40,
and those who claim to know
I am a woman
in possibility
Who believes in
Soul fueled by
the sun,
a strong cup of coffee,
old findings
met with new possibilities
I am a woman
wanting to root
with one bag always packed
next to the door

this time I’ve packed one for you too

© kelly wilt