The Questions I Have for My Mother

Mother, tell me
Who hit you in the face
With a rainbow iron skillet?
And made you into the madwoman maid I call my heaven

Was it the men you refused to let take your power away?
Was it the youth you devoted to the three of us?
Was it the women who tried to define you and you sent them to hell?
Or was it any of those, whose voices you spoke of in cautionary tales?

Mother, now there are winds roaring through the downtown
Red and blue forever apart
And I am without guidance
And still I hear your soul inside of me
Telling me not to fear
To remain firm and truthful
And not let anyone fuck me in the ass

I do as you taught me
I improve upon the cycles you and him equipped me with
And I find myself here tonight
I have nothing but my fragile voice and silver-lined gratitude

Thank you