You cannot steal our forgiveness by The Bloodwitch

The Bloodwitch | June 21st, 2019 | poetry | No Comments

Poet Bio

I was born into this world
on a timeline
marked with
and you ask it of me to forgive
our wounds are still red
and your hands are redder still,
yet you ask it of me
to forgive.
And what of you
is asked, dear ‘Liberator’?
Your liberty?
Your freedom?
Your existence?
You coddle yourself with words
like ‘kindness’ and ‘love’
while human corpses
form the the foundation
of your home
on the land that you stole
and your clothing is stitched
from the same thread
that destroyed my ancestors,
woven by men who pissed on their
shallow, mass graves
and you ask it of me
to forgive.
To what end?
I will not be docile
in the darkness of your fury
I will not be complicit
in the war against my family
and the misplaced people who
for generations
you have
tried to erase
you and your self-obsessed God
who you made
in YOUR image
you and your home-cooked
you and your Western
you have stolen every part of my identity
and sold it back to me
at twice the price
and still, it is I who is asked to forgive
while you detest us
and you oppress us
and you’d like to see us perish.
I am living, breathing proof
that resistance
is sacred
and I would sooner die
than lie down
with your boot upon my head
for that is the only way
the oppressed
forgives their

Poet Bio

A twenty-something-year-old witch whose words are marked in fury, pain, passion and anguish. Through her poetry, she explores themes of oppression, liberation, anger, identity and resistance.

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