The Memory of Violence
Violence's memory endures, a fragile spirit struggling with anxiety, making healing an…
Read more →Bruised, the barren womb shrinks, birthing generations you leave bloodless.
Bruised, broken, barren,
while you leave my body
bloodless,
I still birth you
from my womb – your home –
and every time
you leave it,
shrinking further
with each passing generation.