Lament of a Banshee (circa 2021)

“The banshee screams in the face of Death, scarlet rage seeping from her maw.” That’s how I always pictured my mother in her final moments. And yet, in her place now, I can barely whisper. There’s a terrible shame I feel lying in a pool of my own blood. It flows easier than the words I should’ve spoken. It drenches the hands that wounded millions. It weeps for everything I failed to be. And yet, it created you. Let not the specter of my failure haunt your heart, and let your blood run undaunted.