Report, if you have a problem with this page“ The I you know isn’t me, you said, truthtelling liarMy roots are not my chainsAnd I to you: Whose hands have grownthrough mine? Owl-voiced I cried then: Who?But yours was the one, the only eye assumedDid we turn each other into liars?holding hands with each others’ chains? ”
Adrienne Rich
From : Tonight No Poetry Will Serve
