Poet’s Nook: “My Revolution Lives In This Body” by Eve Ensler

My revolution begins in the body

It isn’t waiting anymore

My revolution does not need approval or permission

It happens because it has to happen in each neighborhood, village, city or town

at gatherings of tribes, fellow students, women at the market, on the bus

It may be gradual and soft

It may be spontaneous and loud

It may be happening already

It may be found in your closet, your drawers, your gut, your legs, your multiplying cells

in the naked mouth of taut nipples and overflowing breasts

My revolution is swelling from the insatiable drumming between my legs

My revolution is willing to die for this

My revolution is ready to live big

My revolution is overthrowing the state

Of mind called patriarchy

My revolution will not be choreographed although it begins with a few familiar steps.

My revolution is not violent but it does not shy away from the dangerous edges where fierce displays of resistance tumble into something new

My revolution is in this body

In these hips atrophied by misogyny

In this jaw wired mute by hunger and atrocity

My revolution is

Connection not consumption

Passion not profit

Orgasm not ownership

My revolution is of the earth and will come from her

For her, because of her

It understands that every time we frack or drill

Or burn or violate the layers of her sacredness

we violate the soul of our future

My revolution is not ashamed to press my body down

On her mud floor in front

Banyan, Cypress, Pine, Kalyaan, Oak, Chestnut, Mulberry

Redwood, Sycamore trees

To bow shamelessly to shocking yellow birds and rose blue setting skies, heart exploding purple bouganvillea and aqua sea

My revolution gladly kisses the feet of mothers and nurses and servers and cleaners and nannies

And healers and all who are life and give life

My revolution is on its knees

On my knees to every holy thing

And to those who carry empire-made burdens in and on their heads and backs and

hearts

My revolution demands abandon

Expects the original

Relies on trouble makers, anarchists, poets, shamans, seers, sexual explorers

Tricksters, mystic travelers, tightrope walkers and those who go too far and feel

too much,

My revolution shows up unexpectedly

Its not naïve but believes in miracles

Cannot be categorized targeted branded

Or even located

Offers prophecy not prescription

Is determined by mystery and ecstatic joy

Requires listening

Is not centralized though we all know where we’re going

It happens in stages and all at once

It happens where you live and everywhere

It understands that divisions are diversions

It requires sitting still and staring deep into my eyes

Go ahead

Love.

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