This Is For My Wild-Hearted Women


This is for the women who can’t sit still. For the ones whose eyes sparkle in the light of the moon and whose arms are always outstretched to the sky, reaching for worlds and stories and bodies and dreams well beyond their grasp.

This for the women who dance. For the ones who lean their heads back in the pouring rain, who hold their skirts and spin in dizzying circles. For the ones who jump in puddles and run down hills and swing with their partners and laugh and laugh and laugh.

This is for the women who love with abandon. For the ones who don’t worry about rules, who don’t proceed with caution, who don’t listen to the words of the ones around them and just run, dive, crash into the people they love.

This is for the women who kiss. The ones who don’t just peck, but press their lips to another’s with passion. The ones who tangle their limbs with lovers, who jump into the arms of the one they’re with, who say what they mean and do what they feel and don’t hold back.

This is for the women who dream. For the ones who stay up late counting stars and tracing patterns of constellations in the night sky. The ones who pour their hearts into notebooks and buy train tickets to the city and send applications to places halfway across the world. The ones who believe, even when the world is silent.

This is for the women who run. Who leave. Who love, and know when they must go and what they must chase. Who follow the pull in their chest and are fearless and full of light.

This is for the women who make art. Who write, who draw, who speak, who create. The ones who take bits and pieces of the earth and transform it into something that can be touched, be held. The ones who take their lives and help to heal others. The ones who cry and feel and make brokenness beautiful with their bodies, words, hands, and hearts.

This is for the women who are free. Free from the expectations of who they should become. Free from the rules of the sexes. The ones who aren’t burdened by guidelines or held back by stigmas. The ones who live with arms open wide because acceptance of others comes first, even before the world accepts them.

This is for the women who are rowdy. The women who cuss and raise their voices. The ones who love who they love, and love proudly. The ones who speak without hesitation. The ones who demand because they know what they deserve.

This is for the spirited women. For the women who are guided by the sun and the pounding in their chests. Who cannot stay fixated to one place, but must explore, must breathe, must learn, must grow, must take in the world around them and make something of it.

This is for the wild-hearted women. The women who live and love boldly, who inspire us, build us, define us, change us.

You are loved, you are beautiful, you are wild.
Never let your light be shadowed or your heart be tamed. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Marisa is a writer, poet, & editor. She is the author of Somewhere On A Highway, a poetry collection on self-discovery, growth, love, loss and the challenges of becoming.

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