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<\/a><\/h3>\nGrateful heart, I roar.<\/a><\/h3>\nInfant muse, I roar.<\/p>\n
Humbled flesh, I bow.<\/p>\n
I cling to the reckless anger that I deserve to own this space; to inhabit this pre-birth giddiness and joy, regardless of my other child or my life’s demands—of my heart’s other demands.<\/em><\/p>\nI roar.<\/h4>\n
I pensively bleed in preparation.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I tighten and cramp in rehearsal.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I sing. I breathe. I meditate while holding my swelling belly in thickly veined hands.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I put my foot across the line of appropriate—I dig my heels into this space without fear; without care; without guilt that I’m not staying within the confines of my feminine place.<\/em><\/p>\nI roar.<\/a><\/h4>\nI cartwheel for what tomorrow could bring, I roar.<\/p>\n
I crank up the stereo, I roar.<\/p>\n
I spin my restless legs with headphones blaring, I roar.<\/p>\n
I thump and groove my head to rhythms from tiny earbuds, to big bass and rich voice—I illuminate my heart-space with music<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\nAnd I roar.<\/h4>\n
I feel the pounding, driving need to purge from my life that which I don’t need—those who I don’t need.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I collect fragile memories and emotional souvenirs and am reborn as a mother.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I spin my legs around the un-moving bicycle as haunting lyrics pierce my goose-bumped soul.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I stand in my lioness strength—I pivot around this defining internal shift of muted woman to violent heartbeats, in ready anticipation of bringing another female<\/a> into this waiting world.<\/em><\/p>\nAnd I roar.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/h4>\n
I pensively bleed in preparation.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I tighten and cramp in rehearsal.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I sing. I breathe. I meditate while holding my swelling belly in thickly veined hands.<\/p>\n
I roar.<\/p>\n
I put my foot across the line of appropriate—I dig my heels into this space without fear; without care; without guilt that I’m not staying within the confines of my feminine place.<\/em><\/p>\n I cartwheel for what tomorrow could bring, I roar.<\/p>\n I crank up the stereo, I roar.<\/p>\n I spin my restless legs with headphones blaring, I roar.<\/p>\n I thump and groove my head to rhythms from tiny earbuds, to big bass and rich voice—I illuminate my heart-space with music<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n I feel the pounding, driving need to purge from my life that which I don’t need—those who I don’t need.<\/p>\n I roar.<\/p>\n I collect fragile memories and emotional souvenirs and am reborn as a mother.<\/p>\n I roar.<\/p>\n I spin my legs around the un-moving bicycle as haunting lyrics pierce my goose-bumped soul.<\/p>\n I roar.<\/p>\n I stand in my lioness strength—I pivot around this defining internal shift of muted woman to violent heartbeats, in ready anticipation of bringing another female<\/a> into this waiting world.<\/em><\/p>\n And I roar.<\/p>\nI roar.<\/a><\/h4>\n
And I roar.<\/h4>\n