I am a daughter of light

I walk the territories of seasons

In wild daylight, when colors beat

In the twilight when sunsets smoke

And deep in the dense waters of night

I walk on my bare feet that flicker

As they touch the red earth of the world

The land that avoids recording certain paths at times

But always, temporarily, records the tracks

(which I ignore on occasion, when

What I understand demands consistency)


I am a daughter of life

I know about movement

I am able to move

(not only in dreams

seeking your warm body mine

— that thrill of finding you

when it occurs we are one)

physically alone

among the things that breathe, mutate

among the motionless

in and past geographical spaces and words

which fail to hold me back and

certainly, cannot possibly hold me in

This might explain it all


My skin is full of imperfections

They need not all be understood

It is not necessary

It is not utopia

It is not even a bad

It is simple, like saying

I am a daughter of light

Which is just saying that

And not

that shadows do not exist, or darkness

Nor is it a poetic way

Of speaking of



Evil is Man’s obsession

He, exceedingly ill

Builds restricted spaces

To play I rule


he feels no panic In front of life

Playing toy houses, picking

Dolls from a catalog

To use them, press them into

Walls, thrust them onto

Beds of dread and grief

Playing Be a Man:


The Misogynist God

The Abusive Husband

The Rapist Soldier

The Psycho Merchant

Terrorizing women

Terrorizing men

Hurting, always


With metal decorations

Oh lord of the Patriarchal Universe

Arrogant ignorant

Cheered by all cowards

Incapable of listening incapable

Of reasoning,

Of controlling his fear

Of letting be or letting do

Incapable of living

Without assassination


I am a daughter of knowledge

Centuries long I know who Man is

I am profoundly familiar

with his boundless well

Of violences which he enforces

His booby words, his killer kisses

His countless medal coins

Sweating a fever of weakness, fear and death

All He touches turns into Hell

For Hell is all He can envision and execute


He has nothing to teach me

He cannot prevent me knowing

He cannot stop my movement

Not his walls, not his trenches

Not his prisons, not his graves

Which he builds for every living being

He has failed:

He cannot destroy my intelligence


(And I wonder what you

have to do with such an idiot, nor I

with his species, nor our love

with the ceaseless wars of

such an imbecile tyrant.)


I move on like light, trusting my flight

Shifting freely in space

In knowledge (which He distorts)

In laughter (which He demonizes)

In love (which He disregards)

Because I am not a daughter of fear

My source is motion


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