Almost Poetic

For all the women in me that didn’t make it into the Bible 

I washed His feet with all the blood I’ve shed from losing myself so many times. Lost in translation, lost in good intentions.

I could not be the beautiful queen whose husband allowed her to present herself to him and plead for her people, my ugly does not beg, my ugly does not know how to present itself in a well mannered fashion. It is all there, all at once.

I could not be the woman who birthed children for a man who saw her as nothing more than the thing standing between him and the love of his life, my womb does not carry a seed that begs for a man’s attention. I only ever needed to be seen by God, only wanted my waters to break in worship to Him who loves even the ugliest parts of myself. 

I could not be the woman who births kings, I stand in abortion queues and find redemption in losing, I could not birth anything that draws breath. My womb filled with regrets, I cannot push them out to lead nations.

I am the woman in the corner, begging to disappear, because I take up way too much space. I clothe myself only in love because that is the only thing that can cover my nakedness. It is the only thing they ever have in my size.

I could not be a faithful woman, I have loved too many people in corridors, on my way from one thing to the other. So many things have taken up my heart in passing.

I have only ever wanted to be a woman loved by God,

my Father’s daughter, I only wanted Him to define me.

 

Image by: Keolebogile Kwaile

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