October 13, 2023
Artwork by - Elle Doran
I carry a second set of grief,
a second set of bones; a larger weight that’s been thrust upon me and left to rot.
My own maternal family heirloom.
I wonder, at times, if she’s truly dead; I fear these female generations passed down are not.
For times I feel her awaken, an itch below my skin as her heart thunders below mine; her wails rattling my ribcage.
I try to calm her, yet the only thing we can do is curl and weep —thick words lodged in my throat. All I can do is pray she passes quickly, hoping this maternal curse can rot within me.
With me, she will die, hoping my future daughters shall walk free.