I wrote this poem in July of 2024

I embrace the crone I’m becoming and let go of the last vestiges of girlhood
no longer will I twirl my hair, bat my eyes, or make myself cute
and soft for the male gaze trying to get their attention
from now on I’ll accept my wrinkles, my aches, my gray hair, my crow’s feet
as proof that I have lived and experienced a life few would’ve survived
as proof that I am a goddamn Guerrera