My woman's heart is too small to understand

The Goddess said:

Is that bloody fist-sized thing pumping

Small, iron promises, ba-dam ba-dam,

The source of your woman's life?

It's the size of a deck of cards ffs!

Big as a 'recommended portion of protein',

Reliable as the time on your treasured Mac,

Measurable, like whether you're in

The good jeans or not. How's that going?

Do you really think that this is it?

I said:

I'm tired of telling you all

The ways the world was different

For my brother.

(She raised her eyebrows, she knows

I am hung up on this, but I don't care.)

It's awkward, because I am greedy.

I am an ambitious, greedy woman.

And he is a kind man, so I can't blame

Him. And you'll be able to point

Out all the ways I fucked it up.

I don't know why it got so hard,

It's just easier sometimes to get

Upset about jeans, start measuring

Myself, rather than try to understand

How to heal this pain for others,

Because there is pain. It is in the air,

And it is something to do with my

Spirit in a woman's body.

Then the Goddess said:

You have endless skies inside,

Atonement, not size 6, is nestled in you,

You are a healing, bursting, infinite

Gorgeous thing, a lover and beloved.

Your inside edges are atoms of love,

You were born to throw your head back,

Offer everything, fuck the sky, let it go,

Now close your eyes, breathe, breathe,

And give it all to the endless beat above.