Do not tell me not to let this steal my joy
I have been the chaser
The wooer
The rescuer of my joy for 33 years
I have watched it struggle and resist
inside the closed hands of men
I have watched it spin out from inside my body
Dart across the continent
I’ve lassoed it back to my chest
Thousands of nights
Tucked it inside
And sung it to sleep
Do not tell me that my rage steals
My peace
I’ve seen them dance together
In one drive through the mountains
Windows down, breathe full of cedar
Lupine, sweet pea, Shasta daisies
And gasping sobs
Throat sticky with pollen
And impotent words