do not stand at my grave and cry; i am not there, i did not die.
honestly wasn’t expecting that post to be repesctful
I see my mother, a slave of her own house - alone.
I see my mother, complacent and eager to please - a slave of her husband.
I see my mother, angry and resigned.
I see her nothing but a vessel for the pleasure of man.
I see my mother, alone when her man is out for the night. She works all day, he barely scrapes his knuckles for a few hours; yet he doesn’t miss her. He doesn’t have
when he thinks of her finally coming home. Her presence doesn’t reside in his chest for more than seconds.
I see my mother, demanding love and respect:
bruised and bloody, naked on the floor.
I see myself, demanding love and respect,
thinking, thinking: the only form of Paradise I can understand for myself is where
I trust no one, where I sniff,
the sharks I’m swimming around,
and I sleep with rabbit eyes,
I know what you’re made of
I see myself as mother
I see myself as wolf,
unlike my mother -
to share the same path.