top of page

Temple Girl

(All the global boys they are my brothers. They are massaging my hair, dressing my skirt, so happy then run to me to greet me from the train.

I am in a temple with a headscarf. I wear it to follow the rules. I transform instantly to a new culture.

I look at the men. I see them. The man on the podium.)

I don’t trust the flow enough.

I still try to filter it at times to be appropriate.

I am afraid you can’t handle the whole me. The real me.

That I am too vulgar or naughty or rich for you.

I keep myself held back so I don’t blow the world away. That’s how it feels.

When I let her out. The girl inside, she is a grinning beaming mischievous smile.

she is a woman in the ocean braving every crashing wave as it lands around us.

she is stopping to pick up a feather as she laughs with her friend on the phone at his inauthenticity.

she wants to cry when someone asks her what she had to brave to get so calm.

And she answers, running ay from home, living for nine years like if I was really me I out get locked up. she answers, realizing it was safe to be me and then having to ask myself who I really am.

All of that. To be here. And here I am now.

The contrast, the multifacets, the variety. It's all me.

I am not used to wisdom looking this qay, he says to me.

No more break.

No more filter.

You can handle it. You want it even. You’re willing to want it even.

I give it to you. Unfiltered. Real raw.

Live love unplugged 2018.

Bring it.


bottom of page