You come like a
tornado, huricane, cylcone
tearing up the paths that other women laid
with their bare hands.
I have seen you too many times
drop nails into my sisters palms and feet
and tie that rope round,
forcing them through a fear I don’t understand
to pull off the arms and sew up the mouths of other women.
I have licked the wounds of other women,
younger women, softer women,
after your puppet army
carved jaged scars across
their eager learning eyes
we can not leave this unspoken
we can not leave this unturned.
I am not expecting calmness
but we do not need these storms
