He picked you up
and then spat you out.

You are too tall, too small, too strong,
too pale, too dark, too weak,
too everything
that he didn’t want.

Generations of scars,
of women waiting,
wasted years of tears and lies.
You carried it –
from grandmothers to mothers,
to daughters,
to the baby in your womb.

Hordes of men, they lie,
devour and destroy.
And women carve out stories
of their betrayal
on cave walls
and you carry on the tradition.

Let me pluck out the bitter cord
coiled inside you where he buried it.

Fire, let everything burn out.
Break the chains.

Oh mother, make us new.


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