Poetry | When I Think About Being A Woman #1

One day she sees an old clock tick,

And knows the booming eternity inside it.

One day, she stops snapping for Insta,

And becomes a burning alchemical fire.

One day, sky clearing blue splits overhead,

And she surrenders in a cloudless choice.

One day a bird leaves firm ground to fly,

And she opens in a silent burst of colour.

One day, in the great thrashing and meeting of things,

She says, this is where I’m supposed to be.

She is sure and surefooted approaching distances

As long and open as all unfilled spaces inside her.

She is a sublime being growing and unfolding

Into a never seen but ever loved and known thing.