Post the Eighty-Sixth or Sometimes you get lost

Sing, O Goddess

Sing about the Rage

De nuestro pueblo

Sing

Of the Colors

That run across

Borders and Centuries

Sing

Of the Reistance

Residing in the

Inside of our Bellies

Sing

Of your Daughters

Who lived as they died

With swords in their hands

Poetry is

my Native

Tongue

Spoken only

Under/Full

Moon.

SHE kissed my Fore-Head

And I saw

Sky

Written in Gold

Earth

Written in Amber

Life

Written in Struggle

Death

Written in Life

I often Wonder

how to find

Mean-ing

Forgetting

Kindness

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About witchymorgan

I'm a 22 year old womanist, sex positive, pansexual, polyamorous, queer, bruja, transwoman. Social justice activist by day, social justice activist by night. Fun! View all posts by witchymorgan

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