Every woman knows her own tree

When I came to you
I was going to open my wings
over that abandoned city
walled in black stones,
find a tree and perch on its branches
and shriek with pain.

Every woman knows her own tree.

That night I flew.
I passed over the city that darkness feared to enter.
Having no shadow the soul
was lonely.
I howled.

Share this poem

view comments

Comments (0)

No comments yet - be the first:

Leave a comment