“The War Beneath My Bones”
In the dark hall of my blood, two mothers speak:
One from the north, frost-eyed and sleek,
The other from fire, where the rivers first ran,
Older than time, older than man.
U4 rides in from the steppes with snow in her hair,
Her voice like wolves, her feet laid bare.
She brings the silence of bronze and sky,
Of birch forests and falcons flying high.
But L3 stirs in a deeper tomb,
Her breath like embers, her cradle the womb
Of all who walked before the ice,
Where night was wide and gods were twice.
From her came N, with desert dreams,
With memory locked in shifting genes.
She whispers of suns I’ve never seen,
Of roots beneath the soil unseen.
They clash in me — not with hate,
But with the weight of ancient fate.
One says “Rise,” the other, “Bow,”
And I, the daughter, live it now.