Monday, October 17, 2011


You show me this book
And tell me it's history,
But if his story is so full of little white lies,
Things fallen through the cracks,
Details conveniently forgot,
I want to see less history.

Tell me herstory.
It will be round and full
Like a woman of nine moons,
And through her story
Words will be woven in loving kindness,
Strung together
In community,
Held in our hearts for generations,
Gathered on the hearth for recollection.
Soft or saucy words,
Wild, twinkling eyes
And merry laughs,
Vibrant and beautiful,
This is her story.
Never dry like history;
Never frail.
No pages missing,
No words left unwritten.

But if you must
Place them side by side;
Undo the bindings.
Take herstory and history,
Re-stitch them as one volume.
Call it theirstory,
Leave empty pages
For ourstory.
A volume never done...

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