On being a woman.

I was born a girl because of a certain chromosome in my cells, I knew how to truly be one when I climbed trees, played hop-scotch or ran barefoot on the beach.

My body went through the ritual of being a girl: puberty, acne and breasts, even as my soul discovered poetry, literature and the power of truth.

While I dressed up to look pretty, there was always a mad ache within, to move beyond what the eye sees, to be accepted for who I was.

Today, my form implies a woman, yet, my mind is sexless. For don’t we all seek truth, haven’t we all jumped in sheer joy, and isn’t there more to us than what meets the eye?

I am Earth.

I am Life.

Do not give me a name, for I am a soul, sans form, sans boundaries.

I am.


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