I am my mother’s savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones
I am my mother’s savage daughter
I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
My mother’s child is a savage
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones
In the faces of cats, In the fall of feathers
In the dancing of fire and the curve of old bones
My mother’s child dances in darkness
She sings heathen songs by the light of the moon
And watches the stars, and renames the planets
And dreams she can reach them with a song and a broom
I am my mother’s savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones
I am my mother’s savage daughter
I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
My mother’s child is a savage
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones
In the faces of cats, In the fall of feathers
In the dancing of fire and the curve of old bones
My mother’s child curses too loud and too often
My mother’s child laughs too hard and too long
And howls at the moon and sleeps in ditches
And clumsily raises her voice in this song
I am my mother’s savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones
I am my mother’s savage daughter
I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
My mother’s child is a savage
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones
In the faces of cats, In the fall of feathers
In the dancing of fire and the curve of old bones