In this Time

I have written on the sand with blood

On the white sand with red hands

On the black sand with pale fingers

On the red sand with black palms

That turn to red too, my hair whipping

My shoulders dark scarlet, my eyes

Old garnets lit by a firestorm

 

I am the girl with the feet that dance

I am the hag with the voice of glass

I am the child that shivers at the door

I am the dust that covers the floor

 

Only a woman, a flower, a thorn,

One who gives birth, one who’s born

 

Tell me a riddle and I am part

Of every answer I am the heart

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