What sound

You'll come out screaming
I'm assured you'll never stop
Cause anything from my womb
breathes with fires
and screams not for food or water
but just to desire

My womb.
sprung from this body of mine
you'll have no fate of silence
not with a mother who cant even be silent when she is supposed to

You see, I tried the subservient shtick
the appropriate behavior
head down
eyes wide
dying to be helpful
waiting to be told what to do

Tried that for a day or two
til my soul screamed out
Woman, fuck you
for letting them reduce you down
to their least common denominator
most desired representative of the vagina tribe

They colonized me
convinced me I could be their Pocahontas
their Sacajawea
I could make a path for them through the wilderness
of breasts and cunts and uppity women
and I was complicit

Meanwhile, they took my corn
claiming my ideas as their own
they wrapped me in a blanket tainted with a disease I could not free myself from
so that I could no longer walk
on those same streets at night
and feel safe.

They fed me the whiskey of the power they passed along to me
but the source of which I did not control

And as they colonized me,
they colonized my people
they colonized those of us who bore their children
who filled their fantasies
who threatened their monopoly on power

And they threw my tribe of feminazis a bone
they put us on the television so the cowboys could win victory over us again
and they began to define us for ourselves

And by accepting their definition
the children of our tribe thought
these explorers could be trusted
These young girls wrapped themselves in thongs and anorexia
threw away, vomited up
the food that had made their mothers fit to bear them
Wrapped themselves once again in Andrew Jackson's blankets
now sold at Louis Vitton

And the girls lost their sight because we had lost ours
too drunk on having a stake
to stand up and say No!
too excited by a media reference or a hip hop video
to refuse the stereotype
or to refuse to refuse the stereotype

Too afraid of being disruptive
out of date
or repetitive
to keep screaming on the picket lines

So, just as Jesus sweat drops of blood
as he prayer to his father
I pour rivers of blood
as I become your mother

And as you are born
I will be screaming
And as we both live
We will be screaming
And when I die and you throw my ashes to the wind
Stand you daughter by your side
and Keep screaming
So that wherever there are the warriors of our tribe
they will know what sound
Is Woman.