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A small series of poems in honour of her.

(In chronological order. September 14 – 16, 2025.)


Violent World

All around the world there are living creatures
Old and young, big and small
Being taken by others
Being consumed by others
Every moment
Many times over

We know, and we forget
For to remember every day
Would be to suffer

Then it comes for those bound to us

When it comes for our blood
Nature’s violence is real again
We remember with fury
We remember with rage
The ugliest parts of the world come front and centre before us
Talons once thought graceful now impaling prey
Teeth and beaks and claws rending flesh
What we once saw with unassuming eyes, perhaps with wonder 
Has been weaponized  

We rant about how great the blades and clubs would feel in our hands
The taste of violence sits so bitterly in our mouths but becomes
Almost a little sweet
In our fantasies of savage vengeance 

Changed forever, we have no choice but to take this
Damage that will follow us to the grave
And suddenly, we know we can never forget again 

September 14, 2025


We’ll Find Him Together

He tore innocence from her
That savage
That waste of cells 

He tried to tear from her very being
Her right to choose
He took it for himself that night

He ripped it out of her grasp
He took what he wanted
He cared for nothing else
Not her
Not then, not every time that followed 

He took it again — how many nights
Days
We may never be sure 

He can’t give back what he stole
But he’ll never take again
If we can help it 

I think, in my dreams
I will come for him
I barely remember his face
But I will find him, with or without a face
And I will give him what he deserves
What all my bloods want to give him
We’ll go together, in that dreamscape
We’ll hunt side by side
Weapons at the ready
We’ll find him together
He’ll never touch another
Never again

May she find it within her to sever the thread
The familial thread now cursed
May she never know another like him 

May he lose everything good he’s ever had
May she never have to look upon his face
(His face which she wears in little fractions)
May he die and rot
First reviled then forgotten by all

May he have nothing
While she has all of us
Forever

September 14, 2025


Just One Phone Call

Sometimes I question my own attachments
My own inner worlds are swirling with fog
Clouding my vision of my own heart
So, unable to clearly see my love
I fear I don’t love enough
Or, to my horror, I wonder:
What if I don’t really love them at all?

What if I truly don’t love them
As their blood should love them?

Then all it took was one call
To show me otherwise
Just one rotten, unexpected phone call
To bring all the love to the fore
Too late to have stopped any of the wickedness 

This love will not be enough
But it will be shared, it will be used
For whatever good it can still do
Even from this distance
I’ll find a way 

I was so far
While being so close 

Young one
I’m so sorry
You deserve so much better
You deserve everything
I’m so sorry
I do love you
I’m so sorry I wasn’t there
Please forgive me 

September 15, 2025


I hope she knows.

“It’s ok to not be ok.” I want to tell her.
“It’s ok to be ok.” I want to tell her, too.
But there’s no need.
I think she knows now.
I think she knew then.
Did she know that she knew?
Was she aware? Or was it
some instinct ingrained in us generations ago?
Some adaptation, for survival of our sex,
which is half the survival of our species?

Barely a woman, this slight one has the rounded features
and wild golden curls (how could anyone ever forget those curls?)
and fire in her that I remember
from her mother’s childhood at my side.
All these and more, her inheritance from the womb.

Further still!
She is
warrior on the ice,
fierce on the field, 
loving the beauty of sunsets
and fashion,
and still holding a kind of purity
that cannot be taken by force.

I think she knows.

I want to believe she knows, this
now-almost-woman who has already,
years ago, at that tender age,
proven herself far stronger
than her father.

September 15, 2025


🩸

my blood is burning
my blood is burning
my blood is
my blood
my

blood

simmering 

head

pounding

so much anger

so much

i don’t
i don’t know where
i don’t know where to put it 

i hope
i hope you die
i hope you die soon

and no one remembers you

September 16, 2025

Published inPoetryFree Verse

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