wailing women

where are the wailing women

who scream their outrage

to the gods

who moan so soft and low

deep into the night

 

where are the wailing women

whose voices

soothe my pain

whose lamentation wraps

me in mourning arms

 

where are the wailing women

whose voices

softly stroke my skin

with fingertips of anguish

to release my own

wailing to the gods

 

where are the wailing women

whose voices

bathe me in their comfort

to wash this blood

of violence and death

which weeps from my wailing womb

wailing-women

rope of abuse

i thought i had broken free

yet the memory of you

burns

my wrists

as you drag me back

through the dirt

to spread my legs

and expose my loins

to the butcher’s knife

rope-of-abuse

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