"If The Capitol Were a Woman” by Daniela Sow

As part of the January I Issue, we are sharing a piece by Daniela Sow for our Poetry Roundup.

"If The Capitol Were a Woman"

Many have entered me
but not like today

today
bloodthirsty men
and women
stained
the insides of my walls
a crimson shade unrecognizable

they ravaged through me,
heaving and bursting through my gates
weaponry in curled fists, the hate
strong, unbridled

today
I was wronged

it was like
a father saying
“Here, have my daughter” —
Father, you were supposed to protect me!

now they climb my terrace
my windows wide, agape
they scale
my proud banisters, tresses
tornado through suits, dresses,
where inauguration speeches and balls reign
where “State of the Union” addresses hail

but this
this is not a union
this is a rape
seared into our democratic memory

but my legs will not tremble
they will not have me on command

my true people,
my communities of black, brown, and for all
will not bear witness to this and stare with stitched lips

I am not
my wound
my womb was built
to incubate and birth
promising bills
professional exchanges
peaceful transitions

so this strikes deep —
beyond my whimsical decor
and commercial corridors
you must ignore, feel past the facade

where are you, God?

where are you, warriors,
with peaceful pens
and hearts of justice?

I will stand
and help you to stand
tall once again

resurrection 
within our reach.