I am an Independent Woman

I am an Independent Woman
but I am not what you think I will be.
I am not a sensual, hair-tossing, eyelash batting
curvaceous woman singing about
"all the honeys who making money
throw your hands up at me,"
although I wish I was.
No.  I am just a girl who learned
from another independent woman
how to be independent
because the men we depended on
were not dependable.

Trauma Knits Itself Into You

Trauma knits itself into you
That's what I've discovered in my first 29 years
You are born with a finite supply of tolerance
to cold
to hunger
to fear
to grief--

When I was five, I fell
from the first floor balcony
I wanted to be Tarzan, so I tried
to zip line down the laundry rope.
(I'll tell you now, laundry ropes aren't
designed to hold 90 pounds, even at the pully attachments.)
I landed on cement.
Brushed myself off,
made a mental note that
that doesn't work well
and kept playing.

In high school I slept
on average, 2.5 to 4.5 hours a night,
swam competitively
and got straight A's.

I dealt with depression
Survived multiple suicide attempts
broken bones
broken heart
but as the diseases and injuries pile up
(as they do as one ages)
purging myself
of the daily grind becomes an act
less and less often completed

as my body begins to give way
to age
and the inevitable slowing
of everything.
My mind.
My reflexes.
My ability to heal.
Until I'm more damage than anything else.