photo by ther author

dubbed

zaria rashay

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a poem

i’m telling you truthfully.
so judge me kindly.

my grandmother named me girl.

warned me about playing woman too soon.
told me not to let men use their hands to age me.

but i did not listen.

was she wrong?
why wasn’t i afraid?

my mother named me bird.

warned me about confusing lighthouses for lovers.
told me to nest and preen with my sisters.

but i did not listen.

was she wrong?
why wasn’t i afraid?

my sister named me ship.

warned me about allowing too many hands to navigate me.
told me to never mistake piss for water.

but i did not listen.

was she wrong?
why wasn’t i afraid?

i’m telling you truthfully.
so judge me kindly.

my father named me almost.

warned me about the smell my esteem would bring.
did not tell me much else.

yet i listened.

was i wrong?
why was i afraid?

my brother named me friend.

warned me about the whispers that would come when I leave.
did not tell me much else.

yet i listened.

was i wrong?
why was i afraid?

my lover named me woman.

warned me about the girly pieces that would age out of me.
did not tell me much else.

yet i listened.

was i wrong?
why was i afraid?

i’m telling you truthfully.
so judge me kindly

i want to express my heartfelt gratitude to you for taking the time to read my work. it really means the world to me. feel free to clap, comment, and/or highlight; your support is genuinely valued on my end. if you are curious on how to and/or willing to further support me. you can buy me a pen. i also value good ol’ fashion word of mouth, so please feel free to share this piece and consider exploring another one of mine. thank you again for reading this far.

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zaria rashay

the nighttime musings of a poetess. in the daylight i sew things and play at production design. ig @zariarashay youtube: zariarashay