You call this a communal, collective, egalitarian place I call it a vicious battleground upon it we vie for my dead father’s throne The one you occupy now carving your self righteousness into weathered wood Shouting over me when I claim blood-right, birthright under stifled breath insinuating if anyone wears Dad’s crown it will be me I learned from the best You puff out your chest frightening my fledgling self righteousness away You cite propriety, hardship, life’s work Thrown, I retreat to my secret place I fawn I relent Licking my wounds Waiting for a sign Listening for a whisper "
YOUZA! This says SO very much, Caitlin! Dang. So powerful. LOVE IT!
Power.
Your voice booms through this piece. Amazing!
So powerful! I love this. From loss to triumph way to go!
Wow wow wow!
Insightful. Metaphorically perfect. A really magnificent piece. Thank you.
Leaving us with “nothing…everything…” Such victory.
LOVE this! Speak!