The first question we’re posed.
I’m 21,
lost.
Unable to see much past my own, hand-built, carefully-constructed,
Prison.
It’s glass.
I think I have been screaming?
I don’t remember. I try my voice. Someone’s cut my voice box out in the middle of the night.
There’s a wolf howling.
I am prey.
Frozen.
3 years lost to watching myself like a ghost
(examine heterogeneous collection of things that people want to save)
Does anyone want to save me?
(heritage usually benefits someone)
Venus finds me, breathes live and joy back into my decayed lungs, my heart starts to beat again, emotions pouring forth like a rain shower in April.
Sappho.
Medea.
Clytaemnestra.
the Bacchae, the women from ‘Asia.’
The Sirens,
call to me.
I melt the beeswax.
And run.
The world explodes,
in technicolour.
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