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First published February 13, 2018
And this is me
a woman alone
on the threshold of a cold season
on the verge of understanding
the earth's polluted existence
and the simple sadness of the sky
and the weakness of these hands.
. . .
I'm cold,
I'm cold it seems
I'll never be warm again . . .
I'm cold and I know
there's nothing left of the wild poppy's dreams
but a few drops of blood.
-from "Let Us Believe in the Dawn of the Cold Season"
"It was a house that turned from the world and cast its gaze inward, a house whose women believed the very walls listened for sin, a house where we whispered the truth or didn't speak it at all."
"The sun was dead
The sun was dead and
'tomorrow'
was an odd, antiquated word
children no longer understood.
They drew it back as a black blot
in their notebooks
My people, a fallen people
dead-of-head, dazed, lonely,
wandered from exile to exile
dragging the burden of their
own corpses
and the murderous thirst of
their hands.
-from 'Earthly Verses'"
"Because I was a woman, they wanted to silence the screams on my ligs and stifle the breath in my lungs. But I couldn't stay quiet. I couldn't speak with the voice of a man, because it was not my voice - not true and not my own. But there was more to it than that. By writing in a woman's voice I wanted to say that a woman, too, is a human being. To say that we, too, have the right to breathe, to cry out, and too sing."