Mother of Dragons

Jeg har dette diktet i inspirasjonsboka, men har dessverre ikke funnet en god plass i dragekjolepostene for det. Så det betyr at det fortjener sitt eget innlegg! 

Mother of Dragons av Tai Weinman:  

I hope my daughter is born in the year of the Dragon, my entire pregnancy a fever, watery mouth and craving raw meat. I hope my daughter hatches, hot coal and khaleesi. I dream this fairytale, because having a girl wasn't always a happy ending.

A man on the bus flips his wallet open to seven snapshots of laughing boys, tells me, he is happy he doesn't have a daughter. This isn't fiction, I've heard these words recycled, mothers and fathers terrified they will be cursed with a baby girl, another princess needing some latch-key tower to cradle her weakness, every x-chromosome a stigma. We turn our boys into knights, dress their delicate flesh in armour. Somehow this isn't weakness for men. But you princess, whale-bone corset your frame fit for monikers like lamb or kitten, delicate and domesticated. Sugar, sweet pea, muffin, something easily devoured. These quicksand incantations, these choke-chain lullabies, these cages for beasts with breasts, these... fables we write for our girls.

He says; womanly strength is a myth. I say, I will weave a story in this womb coated in thick skin and cinder. If the whole world's praying for sons, give me every girl. I will flute-key the titan in her awake. They will call me the mother of dragons, keeper of Leviathans, a fire-whisperer!

Yes girl, a volcano rests on your tongue. Know when to blow smoke and when it's time to drop jaw and burn everything down. Beware of men whose only tool is the sword they swing. Only date men familiar with the inside of a furnace who have the soot-covered scars to prove it. 

Baby girl, buy a pen, paper, a publishing company. Don't let your story be told by those whose plots turn your downfall into a victory, you are nobody's headdress. When their lips whisper "once upon a time", they're not telling your story. Your fate doesn't rest on glass slippers, on a white stallion or on a kiss. You are so much mythical magic you bust the seams off any princess dress. 

So my girl, enter this world on wings screaming, crimson and gold, blazing and bright as sunrise. Break the dawn like an eggshell. You are welcome in these arms and I hope the world is ready for you.