It was in the night that I dreamed
And in the dreaming saw myself
Young and golden and free
I awoke smiling at my innocent self
And stepped unthinkingly across
The circumference of that life and this
A rope of evil binds me, breathes
Its excoriating breathe upon my cheek
Inhales my youth and cherished naiveté
Takes it unto himself as if he had the right
To step into my world with his cloven
Hooves and ill-gotten power and take,
And take, and take again, to exercise
His will, his hubris, his misbegotten soul on me
I will survive
I am strong
But this is not what my potters’ hands envisioned
And the little voice that says not this, no, not this
I cradle her to my breast very tenderly now
I wish she could forget


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