Foremothers

I was wondering
if you even remember
the beginning,
the end,
when it was revealed
that the holy one was a man,
the child was a boy.

It was the time that wrote me
a prostitute and witch
and left me
outside of the revelation.

Loving and accepting,
eager to be allowed back
into the story
I followed you.
I chose faith,
I lengthened my skirts and hated my body
to please,
I covered my hair,
and walked a few steps behind.

I allowed you to keep me hidden,
in back rooms,
amidst your gold treasures
and our very dark secrets.

I let you take over everything I had
even the unwanted daughters I failed
and were not allowed a chance breathe,
even the daughters they raped
and had to be honorably killed.

Today, this history is writing its own demise
and I rise
to speak,
outside,
under the sun,
loud,
in front of my people.

And I vow
that the story will never be stolen again,
from our daughters.
No more.
They will not be a footnote
like our foremothers.

They will be forging new chapters
new times,
new light
and faith
for themselves
and for all the following others.

Loredana Tiron-Pandit

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