There is red and purple that adorn my cheek in place of jewels and rouge,
the evidence of her whips as she attempts to remold with fervor,
her fists the licks of flame to clay.
She inscribes the word of her lord across my forehead,
he is the true king, and her hand is down my throat,
my stomach unable to hold the contents of her truth.
I’ve no ill toward her king, but of the way she twists
the subject to fit her wrists as she rips from me
the comfort of autonomy.
Black and blue, red and purple,
I am a myriad, a celebration,
my fingers are learning to curl.
Power does not lie only in brutality,
brimming with the pink of compassion
and laced with the yellow of understanding,
And, as it is strengthened in the fire,
and beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
the clay glazed in the kiln.
Glass, indestructible, beauty in the making,
I am my own queen, forging my own crown.
Keana Labra was born and raised in the Bay Area, California. Knowing the importance of representation, she would like her work to be evidence that Filipino Americans are also present in the literary and art world. She uses her experiences as reference for her poetry.