Poetry Friday: Women’s Rage

If there is a trickier subject for the world to navigate sans euphemism or apology than the white hot rage of a woman, let me know. It is a huge part of my work because wrangling it, learning to understand it without being consumed by its fire and alchemising its lead into gold has been a giant part of my adult life.

My current favourite course I am rolling out is Intuition, Self Care and the Shadow. The latter aspect has a shameless focus on our rage, so we may learn how and why she works for us, rather than against us. The world needs us to be galvanised by our anger so we may breakdown the structures built by dinosaurs with dicks. Truly.

Poetry Friday is dedicated to women’s rage as fabulously framed by Viola Allo.

Let us say it with
ferocity in our voices,
for women are not happy,
women are angry.
Why do we go around
in such dishonesty
and so openly, too?
Why do we pretend
to be what we are not,
why do we smile and say “happy”
when, in fact, we women wish
to burn the world and throw
its ashes into a cosmic sea 
forever.

Why do we act as if we truly
celebrate women and womanhood when
we only want to use women
to make our babies and our food?
When are we going to
start being turned-on
not by women’s bodies
but by women’s minds?
When will we use those minds
and award them and reward them
and remunerate them
and compensate them
the way we do for men?
When will we market books and jobs
and schools and programs and skills
and empowerment to women?

If you are a woman and you live long enough,
you know this: life isn’t about your body
but about what you build,
and there are more things to build
than just more and more
babies and families.
You can build a book,
you can build a library,
you can build a school,
you can build peace and safety
for the children and families
who are already here
and need care. You can build a community.
You can love more people
than just one man.
You raise more children
than just your own child.
You can be bigger / braver / bolder than
everything you’ve been told you are.
You can be an amazon.
You are an amazon!
Even if all you do each day is
fight with words and make war
with one poem.

Oh Viola, you’re reading my mind. Magic words indeed.

If the workshop calls loudly to you, details for Singleton are here.

If you have a group of women who are interested, get in touch as I am happy to travel to you. It is also included as part of my upcoming Retreat in Wollombi in November