The Lady Screams with Quiet Reason
I am woman born
no source of father's pride
too early in my days, they
track my aroma
I know not to hide
use me in some back room
until my womb rises with a new slave
for their diversions
I am sacred mother
tit tied to feeding, always feeding
(agonized bleeding in secret shame)
No more than a tether, a trough, and
tantalizer of the profane. I am a wrecked
train, a vehicle left to rust, blamed for
never quite thrown away.
Reject me; reject hard truths,
long trod on diamonds, golden geese brought
we who are only dreams in your philosophy.
These dreams, screaming so quietly through
so many centuries, take voice, take strength,
take what we need to thrive.
We take ownership of our stories.
Feb/14/2020, 10:31 pm
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