DJINN BOTTLE
Plodding through desert land
Thirsting for a sip of water
I came across a wishing bottle
Inviting me to see my daughter
I lost her long ago, in many ways
With each person who bid me adieu
Never thinking her presence a nuisance
But watching the flick of the finger shaped like a shoo
...shut down
She is me, I am her, again and again
My mother sits as her, wanting sincere care
Grandma has arisen from her grave
And she's brought her own chair
Wait! She's wielding a whip of control
Her face is angry, eyes still and dead
She has filing cabinets against the wall
Keeping account of every word that's ever been said
...stone cold
No one ever wanted anyone that came
Did they all just endure and treat
Wound after wound healed and scarred
While cracked heels and blistered feet
Walk on..walk on...never relief
The promise of water is nothing but hot sand
And generations of daughters yearn
To be held by a masculine man
...transformed
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-14-2026
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