springtime

they told me

that my voice

was too much.

that because i knew

what i wanted,

and because i knew

how to speak on it,

i was too much.

and they cut my blossoms

before they bloomed.

i was five,

so i listened.

and i stopped

using my voice.

because

i did not want to be

labeled as bossy

and i did not want to

be ashamed

of my own

vocal chords.

i was too much,

so i made myself,

too little.

for years,

my voice was locked

inside

of thick tree bark.

so when boys,

pinned me down,

i forgot how to say no.

and when the world

told me so,

i listened.

and when i did nothing wrong,

i apologized anyway,

for my toomuchness,

or toolittleness.

but a woman

is as wild as

the weeds.

so my seedlings

sprouted nonetheless,

and became my voice,

until my voice grew back.

no no no

blossoming

like cherry trees

in the springtime.