A tingling force grips the core of my being within my chest. This Cage…. This Cage…. The bars are not rattling or twisting now, but the entire edifice shifts. The metal scrapes across the concrete with the force of movement. This Cage created by years of manipulation and indoctrination and abomination. The Being within, birthed in love and hope, shaped by love and confusion and grace and discrepancy.
And patriarchy.
And racism.
And sexism.
And nationalism.
Where does the Cage stop and the Being begin?
I’m not sure yet.
But I must write. I must speak for the Being. I must allow her to unravel, to deconstruct. Her heart writhes in fear and disorientation and self-loathing and anguish. If she continues this way, she will not continue. I must give voice to the shrieks she has gripped within for too many years. For decades. She has stuffed the mouth to silence, swallowed the bile, blinked the tears into submission. Shaken her head as if to rattle the intruding thoughts out of her mind and memory. Like a dog shakes off river water.
I tell her stories, and she is rebirthed.
In compassion.
In curiosity.
In strength.
In self.
In freedom.
And so it resumes…
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