Roar

By. Emily May Portillo

you, woman,
are something
to behold.
not something
to be held down.
do not forget this.

i know
this world
does everything it can
to convince you
to make yourself small.
to stay quiet.
sit pretty.
to call yourself
unimportant.
powerless.
invisible.
to call yourself
nothing at all.

this world,
with all its fear
and all its ignorance,
hands you
self-loathing and resentment
and says “handbook”.
shows you
other women
and says “enemy”.
points to
your body
and says “mine”.
sees your
gentle heart
and says “weak”.

it tries its best to train you
in the art of tearing down.
and when you are wavering
amidst the destruction,
it tells you,
with wrecking ball tongue,
that you were not born
to build.
it wants to render you rubble,
leave you ragged in the wreckage,
and expects you
to stay there.
woman,
do not stay there.

when this world
tries to break you,
do not crumble.
no.
instead, offer it
redemption.
give it one more chance
to behold.
to see this powerful creature
for what it truly is.
woman.

and if, even then,
this world refuses
to bow down to you,
stand tall,
chin high,
and
r o a r.

and know that
we will be roaring, too.

Emily May Portillo is a poet, mother, feminist, and avid over-thinker from the Boston area. Find her on instagram @poetry.on.the.exhale.