the f-word

i remember the first time i said the f-word

in front of my mother.

and her face turned pale and she cleared her throat and spoke

“you know we don’t approve of that word.”

i remember the first time i wrote down the f-word

in my journal.

and my fingers quivered and i whispered inside myself

“do I really approve of that word?”

i remember the first time i said the f-word

to my husband.

and he smiled with his eyes from the driver’s seat and said

“good. I’m proud of you.”

i remember the first time i said the f-word

in relation to Jesus, spoken casually about Him, in His direction,

and i  felt power flow out of Him and heard the wind whisper

“that’s right.

I’m a feminist too.” 

{i'm doing 40 days of poetry, a new adventure for me. i'm sharing them with you, little bits at a time.}