#393 (adder stones)

How us humans

carry grudges

like torches or

badges of honour

unable to name the

anger eating away

at our fragile selves.

How them mothers

grant guilt like an

heirloom, wrapped

in disappointment,

unwilling to share

the sadness, hollowing

their chests like

sponge spicules forming

holes in adder stones.

How us daughters

eat the bitterness

placed on our platter,

unmoved by our

elders wishes to

bear children, so

we bear witness

instead to a world

that is trying to grind

us down, unceasing like

waves crushing away

at the shores of our

refusal.

 

© Matthias Geh, 11th July 2018

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