I Am a Woman.

In my intermediate poetry class, we were given the task to observe different art pieces and write poetry about a specific piece that spoke to us the most. This exercise is also known as, “Ekphrastic Poetry.” The piece I went with was a painting created by Kelly Varner called, “That’s Not a Worm, Bird, That’s My Brain.” I believe I interpreted the work of art in a different way than Varner did, but I guess that’s the beauty of art. Am I right? I took in the painting in a way that described how woman have been struggling to be equal for their entire existence. In the painting, it shows a woman having three faces, and I took it as her having three different sides to herself: who she shows, who she hides, and who she really is. She also had a bird picking at her brain. I saw that as people constantly trying to figure us out. There were also flowers all over the woman’s body, and I saw that as being hair blooming all over. My favorite part of the piece was that there were stepping stones or stairs that led to a door on her neck. To me, that closed door shows how people don’t want us to voice our opinions. They want us to keep quiet or “sit still and look pretty.” But that “norm” has vanished. Women are standing up for what they believe in, and it’s empowering and beautiful. I wrote this poem to voice my views on being a woman. Take it how you want. Leave it how it is.

 

“I Am a Woman”

Victoria Jerde

 

I am a woman.

My teeth aren’t naturally straight.

People are constantly picking at my brain.

My personality is forced to stay inside a bubble.

There are three sides to me:

Who I show,

Who I hide,

And who I really am.

They tell me to hide my true self.

Push her away to the deepest parts of your heart.

They only want closed doors at the end,

Of the stepping stones that lead to my voice,

And expect my skin to be smooth and bare,

Without any trace of flowers growing,

Only allowing those within.

I am a woman.

Who was forced to be the formation,

That fell into the lines,

Of their perfect fairy tale.

But my flowers won’t stop blooming.

The hinges on the door are breaking.

My true self is waking.

My heart is shaking.

Behind my perfect teeth,

I’m screaming,

“Let her out!”

“Let her out!”

But I’m shoved back in.

Before even getting a glimpse of the light.

Yet, I keep trying.

Day after day,

Because I am a woman,

And as a woman, I fight,

Despite how many times I’m stomped on.