I wonder how fractured a soul must become for a mother to be a thorn on the rose that is her daughter, rather than a petal.
To draw blood and kiss no cuts.
When the universe that is motherhood is unable to save her from herself, what will?
The daughters of thorn bearing women will become mothers who swim in the holiest of waters and grow exquisite gardens of children. They will nurture as though softness was all they had ever known.
We must take back control of our legacies. We must rise above the artificial narratives woven into our spines.
We must reclaim our power as the oracles of life.
We are ancestors and descendants.
Rehabilitate your bloodline.
Heal.