A poem I’ve kept for years, clipped from a feminist newspaper, now yellowed but still true

Friends Would
by Meg Brigantine

rather she cut
her tendons
the shambling stoop
that was her before this

they would rather
silence her mid-speech
what she speaks of
wimmin are forbidden to speak of

they would prefer
to strike her blind
than see what she has become

her friends would rather
go to the movies
than come over for tea

she laced up her shoes
for action
gained second sight
tore the gag from her brain
hurdled the wall
& lived
as if her life depended on it.

I think I found this in the Minneapolis wimmin’s paper Lesbian Insider/Insighter/Inciter. I hear those last four lines in my head every time I am in a space where I have to muster my the core of my courage.


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