Mary, Mary

I hug myself in a stream of sunlight and I go to that place where I lay rest my words, I don't know where they come from, but I feel it, like a scab feels a blister and heals,

then, soon, or after.

My words heal and they matter.

A shield not long due, between the middle of my brow,

and centred between the lines of my lips.

I remember, I remembered.

Yes, I am a woman now.

____

Is there something wrong with me Mary?

Is there really something wrong?

My petals fell from a distance.

I was always too far gone.

Now I ripple away in the silence,

just like a forgotten song,

but that still seems to permeate everything.

Still so good, even though I'm socially wrong.