primordial hunger – Mykala Gray

i have a hunger that isn’t mine.

it’s something primal in my soul,

tangible in my hands,

staining my flesh a deep scarlett. 

i suspect these urges in my gut 

are something ancestral,

from women whose hunger 

was not allowed to be theirs-

was told it cannot be theirs, 

and were forced to push that hunger 

down, deep down, 

under bruised eyes and burnt hands. 

when her hunger was secondary to

his hunger 

and to the children he wanted, 

but whose hunger does not matter to him.

a selfish man and a selfless mother.

i have a hunger that isn’t mine 

but belongs to generations of forgottens.

a hunger not for food,

or any other sustenance, 

but for revenge. 

revenge for women burned

and women hanged.

for women beaten and buried.

for the women we know of

and the ones we don’t-

for the names that will be remembered

and the ones that will remain

nameless. 

i have a hunger,

and so i will eat first, 

for all of the women 

who waited 

until her lazy husband 

and her ungrateful children have eaten, 

waited until her food 

ran cold by the time she dished it up.

and i will write 

under my own name, 

for all of the women 

who took on male pseudonyms 

or worse- 

had their work stolen 

and published by their husband,

giving him all of the credit 

and her 

none. 

this hunger is not mine,

but i will make it ours.