I wrote this for the Basta! Anthology and I didn’t submit it because at the time it was too personal for me. A couple years later, I enjoy the discovery of how our vaginas are their own characters and the connection I was able to capture.
Sabía que mi vagina tenía dos emociones felicidad y dolor physica pero no sabía que ella sabía cómo llorar…
My vagina knew great joys and pain, physical pain
but I didn’t know that she knew how to cry.
I never acknowledged her pain-her cry.
I thought that sting was my heartbreaking.
One night in a fury of throwback blames-claims-and-long-dead-skeletons.
I broke and cried.
As if a rifle was up in my pussy I felt
the shot not in my chest
but in her-my vagina
was crying with me.
All these years
that I gave n came for this or that man
I thought I was alone,
I thought it was me who was leaving them
and growing strong while leaving.
It was right there on my bed, her with me
suddenly I wasn’t alone.
I had a witness to my pain.
At that moment, she and I were one and I was not alone.
I stopped crying because I didn’t want to cause her more pain.
Then the pain of betrayal of the words come from the man who
Had given her so much love.
We became one.
And we hugged.