This ocean has no boundaries.
It stretches beyond the edge of the world.
It is too big.
I can’t see the shore or the horizon, only the waves threatening to pull me under,
threatening me with every opportunity to remind me of their pervasive presence.
A little one. A bigger one. A little one. A monsoon.
I am so strong and so resilient and so fucking tired.
I can’t stop swimming because I’ll drown.
But what direction am I going, if salvation is out of sight?
Why am I even trying if there’s nowhere to go?
But…
I see something different than the same it has always been.
If we breathe, can it be smaller?
If I whisper, can it be smaller?
If we push, can it be smaller?
If I fight, can it be smaller?
If we roar, can it be smaller?
I will make it as small as it has made me.
I will hold this ocean in the palm of my hand, and I will swallow it whole.
A love letter to the patriarchy
Penelope J Oak 