Soft

clouds-3189310_1920

I wring my wrists dry,
free of the stain each
expectation sinks into
soiled skin,

I reach outward, but
my mother guides me
towards her, shaking
no.

Presentation is not a
concrete definition,
this also is, only for the
moment,

I bask in the pink,
revel in the dirt, and
I am uplifted only by
others,

 

I reach again, this time
scraping a piece of the clouds
returning it to the ground,

always growing,
this is me.

Keana Labra
“Allowing womxn and girls a sanctuary in which they may speak their truths is vital to the exploration of their “self” and cultivation of the person they wish to become. Growing up, I struggled with society’s rigid definition of “woman” and femininity, and I’ve only recently grasped that its definition is mine to create and embody. I want to dedicate my piece to those who felt stuck in this ‘in-between’ space.”

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