“Lunar Shatters” by Melissa Broder

I read this poem yesterday and just had to share it with you all, sort of as my Holiday gift to you. Hope you enjoy!

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I came into the world a young man

Then I broke me off

Still the sea and clouds are Pegasus colors

My heart is Pegasus colors but to get there I must go back

Back to the time before I was a woman

Before I broke me off to make a flattened lap

And placed thereon a young man

Where I myself could have dangled

And how I begged him enter there

My broken young man parts

And how I let the mystery collapse

With rugged young man puncture

And how I begged him turn me Pegasus colors

And please to put a sunset there

And gone forever was my feeling snake

And in its place dark letters

And me the softest of all

And me so skinless I could no longer be naked

And me I had to de-banshee

And me I dressed myself

I made a poison suit

I darned it out of myths

Some of the myths were beautiful

Some turned ugly in the making

The myth of the slender girl

The myth of the fat one

The myth of rescue

The myth of young men

The myth of the hair in their eyes

The myth of how beauty would save them

The myth of me and who I must become

The myth of what I am not

And the horses who are no myth

How they do not need to turn Pegasus

They are winged in their un-myth

They holy up the ground

I must holy up the ground

I sanctify the ground and say fuck it

I say fuck it in a way that does not invite death

I say fuck it and fall down no new holes

And I ride an unwinged horse

And I unbecome myself

And I strip my poison suit

And wear my crown of fuck its

***

Also, I highly suggest that you all follow Melissa Broder on Twitter, if you have one. And if you don’t, I suggest getting one just so that you can follow Melissa Broder. That’s what I did, anyways.

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Here are some gems from her Twitter account:

glad that nurture fucked me up and not just nature

brb, dismantling my belief system

roll up 2 the club in a vague feeling of impending doom

Our work isn’t done yet

Let’s avoid going back to that darkened tunnel
when our mouths were strapped shut by that age-old muzzle,
and we were pushed by a strapping car with a white collar
that ran on its insistent need for incessant power.

The history books flap to Ceausesçu’s Romania,
reminding us to learn from the past’s manic mania.
We must not stand by the wayside and watch
as our gender gets browbeaten, discarded and tossed,

because we are more than just bunnies or sex slot machines;
we are Women. We must fight for our rights and our needs.
We are Women. We may practice different faiths or beliefs,
but we are strong, and we will be heard, and we will be seen.