Monday, June 15, 2009

Sweaty - The She Wolf Leads Her Pack

Jun 15, 2009
I congratulate myself,
for defying that simple purpose
which I was expected to not achieve.
Such a lot of living despite the list of ignored don'ts.

I call out my own name breaking a glass ceiling
with the rays from my true blonde hair,
as my glossy red lips smile in success, and
my manicured fingers use re-dial
to clarify what that last
comment about my sex
was really supposed to mean.
 Because in truth
I won't accept that.

I work out at level ten sweaty and hot
while pedals beat in rhythm up and down against
a straining chain
because it makes me feel strong.
I deserve to be as strong as I want.
I design myself to look as I feel fit and
not because you say
that is the way I might look.

I am the mountain that I can't climb
and a yellow sun that scorches to be beautiful,
spitting and frothing as I buck my last rider
off because he whipped too hard, and I will go
at my own pace.
I don't accept being called a chick.

If bitterness calls in cadence against my wildly
flowing desires to achieve and a roaring coat of arms
goes up at my acquisition, I answer back
with a trumpeting salute to my own mastery.
I toot my own horn.

I am a completion of uncompleted victories
and a direction of pathless deams.
I hope with nature's freedom, and the wild
knows my name.

Because the she wolf leads her pack,
Because I and only I can decide what I will accept.

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