Bruised Knees/Rachel Finch

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My knees have known Bruises.

A spectrum of colour staining my skin as a

reminder.

Pigments of who I am, altered at their

hands.

Fists clenched to strike, clench, imprint.

Each stain a bolt, a language seeping into

my essence; teaching.

My ribs have known bruises.

Painted, I am every female ancestor face

first in the dirt.

My throat has known bruises.

I never felt so transparent as I did wearing

lesions beneath a high collar.

Fading, my shell returns, burying the real

wounds beneath it.

But I am wiser.

Healed I am every female ancestor face

towards the Sun.

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