Widerspenstig / Recalcitrant

She was a lover of words and their etymology.

A holder and reader of dictionaries, never too

Lazy to search for a word, the meaning thereof,

And read it to me, the evolution of a word out of

Her mouth into my mind, into my memory, of her,

Ways of describing her, remembering her, holding her

In these long gone instants, releasing her, embedded

In a love that doesn’t die, it neither shrinks nor does it fade away.


What happened to her body? To the bodies of the women

I knew? Looked at? In fascination? In repulsion?

Astonishment, or shame? The women I imitated or rejected?

Myself? Who were they? And what happened to them?

I might have overlooked their agency in matters, never saw

Them acting, reaching conclusions without looking closer,

What happened behind closed doors, within themselves, their

Thoughts, what they never said, what they might have said with

Me out of reach, had I really known them at all?


Did I just vandalise them and reduce their identities with

The stamp that was closest, easiest, within reach and comfort zones?

Their bodies were strong and resilient, they endured, and bounced back,

And I did too, we never gave each other credit for that, nobody ever did.

We accredited the ones inflicting harm, taking actions against us,

The overt violators, we might have had our backs without words,

I misinterpreted silence, patience, contemplation, solutions, the

Accumulation of courage, of finding language and expression,

Of thinking of steps and then taking them, acts of liberation and

The exhalation of bad air, of used air, of all too familiar air without

Nutrients, without liveliness, without clearheadedness, without

Restitutional powers, clarifications, resetting dynamics and loose patterns.


I saw men invade their bodies, absorb their energy without

Reciprocation, in secrecy, in alienation, in violation,

Blind to their worth, and take and take and get drunk on

What these women had to give, were robbed of, with lies and

The mere basics of humanness. Slowly, they beat it out of them,

Autonomy, self-love, attention, character, sliding with all of their

Weight over their skin, moulding, scratching, scraping, eating,

Absorbing a strength with an unrecognisable formula,

Wanting to possess, wanting to control, wanting to overrule.


I saw what these bodies could endure, what they were made of.

I should have comprehended their powers then and there.

Should have fallen in love with them, should have seen them,

Who they really were, what they were capable of. I listened

To the loud choirs instead that screamed and imposed themselves,

Not knowing what else to do, not moving in harmony, one against

The other, one acting against the other, instead of dancing light

And shadow, lifting each other up, consolidating and clearing the air.


I knelt in front of the perpetrators

Instead of the recuperators.

I misread power.

I misinterpreted strength.

I followed blindly. Intimidated.

Giving up. Resources.





What could they have achieved if they

Had found ways to transcend together?

monochrome photo of tattooed woman
Photo by Gaberali on Pexels.com

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