A wisened old hag cackling to herself,
A frazzled mother weeping from exhaustion,
A somber maiden carrying a sword - they
Complete a twisted pattern of my cells.
They sing unholy songs that warm my blood,
They fight injustice, thriving in the shadows,
They glitter craving love, inviting madness,
Rejoice in sadness, naked, iron-clad.
And while they watch I never bend my knee
To an unworthy cause or flaky sorrow.
Ancestors and descendants swim in currents
When you are she. And she is also me.
DNA
© Copyright: Кристина Девулите, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111032601414
Свидетельство о публикации №111032601414
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