I Am Made Of Crimson Roses
I am made of crimson roses
Crimson like the blood that ran down my thighs
Each time I have been grabbed
And each time, my body has been exploited
My body had always been the trophy of a cheap and crazy hunt
Treated like a wild animal to be brutally tamed and subjugated
I had to lose my mind
I had to lose myself
To survive that ferocity
My body has always been guilty
I was the witch to burn for a sin I never committed
Hence a part of myself died
Each time it happened
Like a violent thunderstorm
Which inexorable dominates the sky with a destructive force
Being a “female” like I have always been defined
Following the zoological nomenclature
I was supposed to obey and fulfil my duties of slave and prey
Because I was just a docile doll
My intellect and my soul were useless furnishings
As my lips are stained with red wine drops
I realise that I have been a victim and captive of my foolish naivete
I have not been able to protect myself
So much desire I had
To be loved passionately
Seeking an ethereal love I couldn’t find.
Esther Racah