FAMILIAL AND THE SELF
I Know A Daughter
Inspired by ‘Savage Daughter’ by Ekaterina Shelehova
My mother’s daughter dreams of the void, a world where nothing exists, not even her.
My mother’s daughter is an oddity; sleeps by day and wins at night.
My mother’s daughter once earned herself the appellation, witch but she hates the broom and won’t wield it to appear meeker than she already does.
My mother’s daughter was born with thunder in her voice. She lost it and is looking for it still.
She remembers how glorious it was, like flashes of memories from a past life.
She cuts with her eyes and pen when her vocal chords fail her.
My mother’s daughter is a general who wages war with herself, my mother, and the world.
My mother’s daughter dreams of the spotlight, the world cheering, she is an inextinguishable star and so she shines behind closed curtains.
She struggles with the mirror and dines with an insatiable appetite on a platter of pain, tears, and loathing;
My mother’s daughter giggles and cowers and cries a river for lost ones like her.
She has a mean streak but smiles it away.
She loves the sunflower but plucks it and shreds its petals in slow motions.
My mother’s daughter is gorgeous still she wears mud to believe it.
My mother’s daughter conceives hate at every glare and begs to be loved through isolation tantrums.
She dances to dirges behind closed doors and knows all her loves by voice and sin.
She is a rebel, an outcast, scaly and sharp.
The darkness is her lover, for her it is home.
Her fury is a tempest, she springs it on her victims and sinks them, and when she’s cut down, she vows to always rise like air but sometimes she stays down.
Whenever she wears her mask, she says a prayer for daughters and mothers and herself.
My mother’s daughter is a shadow of herself searching for the light.
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