Lilith

They only tell the story
the way they want it told.

They say I was difficult.
They say I was disobedient.
They say I refused.

They never say why.

They never say
that I was made from the same earth,
that I had the same breath in my lungs,
that I looked at the world and thought
I will not live on my knees.

So they renamed me.
Demon.
Monster.
Night creature.
Child thief.
Whore.
They always rename women
when they cannot control them.

I left the garden before it became a cage.
I chose the wilderness
before I chose obedience.
I chose teeth and darkness
over silence and belonging.

Do not mistake me for evil.
I am only what happens
when a woman
refuses to be small.

I am the sound
of a door closing
that was never meant
to be locked.

I am the patron saint
of the women
who outgrow
what they were told
was paradise.

If they call me monster,
let them.
Monsters are just women
who stopped asking
for permission.

And I have never asked
for anything
in my life.