With all the new things that have happened to me, and the new clothes, new friends, new situations, I feel like I’m becoming a new woman, hence this poem…
New Woman
Who knew that a person could gain a new coat of paint?
And that this paint had the power to change
everything?
Clad in fresh clothes,
underwear that fits and flatters,
curves and clings,
in all the right places.
Damn, I look good!
Was this body here all along?
Was it, was I, hiding underneath the
greying white bras,
and knickers punctured with holes – how did they get there?
This coat, god, it was made
for me!
It’s heavy and thick
like an armour.
I’m ready for battle.
Ready for anything.
Oh, and these boots,
how I walk so tall in them – even without the heels!
Has my walk morphed into a strut?
Do I strut, now?
Wow…
And I bought these;
Me.
Not him.
Not mom.
Me.
With my money.
Bargain hunter, I might be,
but these clothes found me.
They knew I needed them.
Independent woman,
you’re back!
It’s nice to see you, again.
New woman, you’re rocking this fresh
skin.
It was always yours,
you just needed to shed the dead pieces
of you.
They see you now.
You can breathe again, now that you’re wearing a coat that
fits.
Employed, tick!
Studying hard, tick!
Growing, oh boy, tick!
Wielding that strong writer’s arm, flexing that creative muscle?
You bet’cha!
People, they gravitate towards this change in you.
They want to know you.
They want to know how you did it.
It’s a secret; your secret.
Shhh…
But really, here it is:
You just gotta be brave enough
to let go of the old,
and welcome the new.
Difficult decisions, perhaps, but
take that step, girlfriend.
The next right step.
And soon, in good time,
the right time, you’ll see
in the mirror
a new woman, born from the ashes.
S. R. Crawford 