A woman and her young daughter
walked by me, heading opposite,
on the narrow sidewalk
outside the Y this morning.
I’m sorry, Older She said
in passing
as women often do,
and though my mouth was silent
I wanted with all my heart to say
Please don’t apologize for taking up space.
If you want to regret anything,
be sorry for shrinking away,
making yourself small.
Anytime. Ever. You most of all,
a mother
to a daughter, will you please
lengthen, and widen. Stand up
and show your big glorious self
Spread your arms wide so
your daughter will see
how to fly.
My mouth stayed shut, though,
conscious as it was
about taking up room on my face.
and I thought, for the hundredth time,
the thousandth;
Those daily speaking engagements
Internally – thought,
Externally, conversation, —
are we not
often, or always,
speaking mostly, actually,
to ourselves?
– Melinda Coppola
This poem was published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice September 2022