Now with over 90 videos! Have you visited the Feminist Confessional YouTube channel yet?
Did you know Feminist Confessional has a YouTube channel? The channel is a repository of more than 80 spoken word poetry videos, most of which were written by Melita White, as well as a handful of poems by well-known poets. If you enjoy the videos, please subscribe. You can find the Feminist Confessional YouTube channel here, or click on the image above.
To read the text of this poem, click here. You can also watch this video with auto-captions. To do so, switch them on in the settings menu in YouTube.
You can read the text of this poem here. To watch the video with auto-captions, switch them on in the settings menu in YouTube.
I’m starting to think that a healer is someone who asks “how are you?” and means it
They wait for your answer because they really want to know
There is something in the way they ask and the look in their eye that makes you feel safe
So you answer honestly and they let you speak
Anything is ok, any feeling at all
Nothing is good or bad and nothing is judged
They let you speak and they stay quiet and nod like they know what you mean because they do
And as you speak a kind of alchemy occurs and you end up feeling it’s ok to be you because the essence of you is ok with them
They stay and listen to your tender parts
Those hidden hurts you release and expose
And though you’re wide open they do you no harm so you trust them
And to trust is to feel safe and to never feel alone
This is how the healer works
Seek them out — speak
And they will listen
This feeling of solitude and playing with petals while sitting in dirt is familiar. I feel calm alone. I am hidden alone. Nature is my friend. I breathe and I notice. Plush blue velvet on dry brown dirt. Clumps like rocks. Tiny veined yellow petals fall on my pants and get caught in the wind. The crop behind acts as a shield and keeps me warm and sheltered. The sun is diffuse through heavy cloud. The yellow is fading to green. The dirt looks pretty on my velvet pants. Rust brown powder on navy sheen. I breathe and I am here. I am safe out here.
She came from hearty northern stock:
Mecklenburg, Silesia
Terrified men with her strength and stature
Startled all with her open candour
Wrote sweet poems and climbed steep mountains
Roamed with sheep, a shepherd by name
Nursed woolly babies back to life
And wept for those whose time had come
While with the humans she found purpose
Opening ears to all who spoke
Offering mirrors and droplets of hope
Not many knew she was tightly closed
Like an unsprouted kernel — persipan
A seed of potential she stood her ground
Two strong pylons primed for battle
The day will come to breach her shell
These are her legs, they carry her well
You can read the text of this poem here. To watch the video with captions, you can switch on auto-captions in the settings menu in YouTube.
You can read the text of this poem here. To watch the video with auto-captions, please turn them on in the settings menu in YouTube.
Hi all. I’m taking a temporary hiatus from my Feminist Confessional Twitter account. Please watch the video to find out more. You can switch on auto-captions in the settings menu in YouTube if you would like to watch the video with captions. To subscribe to my YouTube channel, you can simply click through to my account from the video above.
lovers tessellate —
copies of one another,
no gaps between them
