I have words but I don’t know where to put them
I have silence but don’t know how to stay still I have rage but only these smoky ruins remain Shall I wrap them softly? Swaddled in burnt ember? Somewhere in the crawl space of my heart I keep these words I keep them quiet, I keep them safe I fear their lighting — a burnt match A pathway winking into existence To a smoldering anger undying, to worlds that I would end with just one glance Eternal, unvanquished, immortal They say to women, find your voice They say to women, find your dignity They do not warn you no they do not warn you What happens when you do — the only infinity that exists is this rage I can no longer remember the name of the dish my mother used to prepare — the sucking up of juices of boiled bones What else can you call the dripping of savory blood down your chin Except a kind of feral hope?
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Aboutin which I (attempt) to explore all things math, identity, education, social justice, and critical consciousness Archives
September 2020
Categories |