Don't Let Them Hear You

By. Mia Tarduno

My cries are muffled by the ideas I was taught.
“Stop that,” becomes a phrase I wear like a piece of jewelry that never comes off.
Not in the shower
Not in bed
Not in the garden or workouts or traveling.
I know it’s not exactly me,
It’s something I picked up along the way.
I learned to be still and quiet
To be small
And it’s only in the darkest parts of the night that I still hear her.
[Go ahead, be angry]
I learned to carry myself with grace.
[Make noise]
I learned to say no thank you, I’m fine.
[Make the sounds too sexy to be appropriate]
Really, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.
[Take up space]
I’m sorry to ask this, but...
[Take up so much space]
I learned to not say anything, to hold it in until I felt like I was going to burst.
[Take up so much space as a woman]
I dream of dancing in the mud and forgetting the texture of shame.
[Move, arch, touch]
I hold my breath.
[It’s okay, breathe louder]
[Sigh, moan, ask for it, stretch, exhale, squirm]
I yearn, I know, I learn
And then I swallow my desires
And I straighten out my dress.

Mia Tarduno is an Artist, Author, Trauma Informed Yoga Instructor, Intuitive Movement Guide and Women’s Gathering Facilitator. She teaches workshops, classes, and gatherings to educate and guide women through the cycles in their bodies and lives.

Website: Movecreateradiate.com
IG: Movecreateradiate
Contact: Movecreateradiate@gmail.com