I won’t do it!
I will not write another woman’s poem
any more than I will wear another woman’s face.
This is my voice,
my words are my person-hood.
Buddha suggests that, in the time before my birth,
I was no one. I merely was.
nameless, thoughtless, full of empty
but then! I tore screaming into the conscious world
on a spume of blood and light.
Since then I have been Sara,
fought for and won,
and this has been my birthright:
to say my own words, tell my own story.