A poem for you...


There were these women

whose beauty was preceded by their sadness

(their sorrows took root)

& the world placed all of its weight on them with no remorse

(their aching branched)

& never turned back to see the women ossify

(genesis: weeping willows)

(And the tales tell that women only transform through grief

So where does that leave you, daughter?

What branch of heartache does that leaf you in?)

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