15 Quotes by Beth Morey

the mind is a treasuretrove, an almanac, a tomb.

I am at the gates of my own destruction.(Or so I'm told.)

you saywe were nevermeant for this vowed life,golden bands of only us, and deathdo us part. you say love like it's held in quotation marks,that this union soured before it started.

we have forgotten that we were bornof celestial cataclysm.we have forgotten how to dancebare-footed on the earth to the cadenceof our souls. we have forgotten the ritualfires and the acrid tang of holy smokeon our tongues.

i feel the spring breeze rufflingthe new-hatched damp of my unfurlingfeathers; i see with eyes bleary from egg-darkthe shell clinging sticky to my screamingbeak.

now I'm blinking in a new gloamingand all I see as I'm stretched low down hereis a world of women flat on their frozenfaces. we are the ground itself, corporealcarpet of cells, softness calloused hardbeneath the pebbled soles of the fathersand husbands and brothers and priestsand it's a horror if you could see it,a world of women ruinedby man's fear.