Undignified, Holy Woman. (A poem)

I want to be undignified. 

I want to laugh loudly at the “wrong moments,”  

chuckling at the social norms

that weave us together in some sort of 

fabricated connection.

I want to be disillusioned

in public

so all can see me

naked and unafraid.

I want to watch the discomfort 

as my womanhood is expanded 

beyond pretty, sweet and small.

I want to trust that 

their discomfort

is their medicine.

I want to watch men squirm 

and mothers recoil

at the precision of my rage.

I want to watch brains scramble

and a loss for words

at the unexpected grace that appears

as I become undone. 

I want to make art 

of myself

of my life

of this undoing. 

I want them to feel it

every inch of their judgment

like blood in their mouths

as they spit it out 

only to themselves

become undignified. 

I want to see 

all that is deemed 

wretched 

truly made holy. 

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