Defiance

by Mary Saracino

I was bred to appease

close the gaping mouth

of desire

a child speaking

in the foreign tongue of docility

relying on conforming consonants

denying voracious vowels their due

jailing truth behind clenched teeth

taunt lips, a shaking, frightened heart.

Even then something inside

refused to cooperate

prowled the dark alleyways of muscles

scrawling thick, bloody letters

on the walls of veins staining the bedrock

of sinew with graffiti

something stood proud like a furious flag

called for revolution

something howled: "I am not for sale."

Even under the sullied breath of childhood

I sometimes whispered whole

sentences of insubordination

befriended the slang of dissension

quietly at first

then more confidently, questioning

each syllable that stuttered across my startled mouth

all that my voice withheld

my relentless heart demanded.

Long miles from youth to now

ripened into insurgence

not anarchy for its own selfish sake

not lawlessness

but justice breaking free.

The years ferried me past complacency

away from the shoreline of orthodoxy

beyond the borderlands of muteness

far from the places where a woman’s silence

is her best kept secret

where she must always know her place

abdicate her will

keep her mouth shut.

Now rebel nouns and verbs dance

upon the tender tip

of my tenacious tongue.

A woman must always ignite her voice

speak of her hunger

satisfy the ache

of purpose that gives birth to defiance

suckle it to her breast

tend to it as if it were

the last child on Earth

the only hope for humanity’s survival

because it is.