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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.

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