Are you talking to me?
Me?
This is laughable.
After all this time.
You have kicked me on the shin.
There will be a bruise.

I am just like every other woman writing poetry
Every woman they used to lock in attics.
Or keep in cloisters.
Every woman caught talking to herself
That they called crazy.

I feel so foolish to have misunderstood my mother.
We thought she was crazy too,
She tried.
She just didn’t have the right tools.
So she drowned her frustrations in a bottle.

 I was so angry at her for it.

But she had me.
So I can continue on for her.
I am her dream.
I am her mother’s dream.

Did you speak to them too?
Did they long for you too?
The one who never shows their face.
I feel like this was set in motion well before I was born.
And passed through generations.
Before it came to me.

The frightening thing is a see my foolishness echoed in my son’s gaze.
I am my mother’s child afterall.
Becareful what you become.

(Two headed woman is a reference to Lucille Clifton)

(As discussed Magick and Alchemy podcast)