Dear Grandmother, 

 

I wish you could see, my ink stained hands, 

Where he needled in birds, 10, that I could count 

But I can no longer inherit the chains I ought to love 

Was born to love, everyone says 

The wounds hurt, that held the cord connecting me to your life

I’m sorry, I clipped it, I had to make room for the wings,

Mother is often upset, as I reject, 

Our generational suffering 

We fight, she cries, I do not blame her, 

Would I leave if I had the key to the prison I was born in?

I promise you I will not birth another in a prison 

I wish you could see, no husband will leave me bloodied 

No brother will draw my bounds 

Will you be proud? Dear grandmother? 

When I say suffer, a little less than my mother? 

And a little more than my daughter, 

 

Love, 

Your granddaughter, who grew half a wing.