To be a girl in the World of Woman

By Jayla Jones

To be a girl in the World of Woman

by fourth year Meghan Hawley

A lipstick love letter to girlhood past,

and women present whom I so adore:

Of glitter glue streaked tea parties I dreamt,

and whispered wishes under bed sheet forts, 

mosquito-bit scraped knees from playground swings,

and plastic dolls in butterfly-room walls.

But then came awkward adolescent qualms,

with tampons, training bras, and pink lip gloss,

the shrieking mother-daughter screaming match,

and tears from crying over forehead zits.

Sixteen years old you think you know it all,

arrive the teenage dreams but leave the bees

and birds behind, oh gentle girl of mine;

for you weren’t made to be loved like the rest.

Your truth lies not in loving friend too close,

for when that ends bode well it not for both,

girls burn apart in massive blaze alight;

explosions far from dignity or fight.

But from the fire of passion comes the peace

of what it means to know a woman well,

to love a friend is to be known by her.

We share divine creation what it means

to grow up girl or later to become 

a woman cut from the same cloth as us.

We celebrate in femininity

the intimacy of our supple youth;

for we were girls together, now women.