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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=389844" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Blood & Honey</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I began by loving women<br>& the love turned<br>to bitterness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My mother, the bitter,<br>whose bitter lesson-<br>trust no one,<br>especially no male-<br>caused me to be naive<br>for too many years,<br>in mere rebellion<br>against that bitterness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If she was Medea,<br>I would be Candide<br>& bleed in every sexual war,<br>& water my garden with menstrual blood<br>& grow the juiciest fruits.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(Like the woman<br>who watered her roses with blood<br>& won all the prizes,<br>though no one knew why.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If she was Lady Macbeth,<br>I would be Don Quixote-<br>& never pass up a windmill<br>without a fight,<br>& never choose discretion<br>over valor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My valor was often foolish.<br>I was rash<br>(though others called me brave).<br>My poems were red flags<br>To lure the bulls.<br>The picadors smelled blood<br>& jabbed my novels.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had only begun<br>by loving women-<br>& ended by hating their deceit,<br>hating the hate<br>they feed their daughters,<br>hating the self-hate<br>they feed themselves,<br>hating the contempt<br>they feed their men,<br>as they claim weakness-<br>their secret strength.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For who can be crueler<br>than a woman<br>who is cruel<br>out of her impotence?<br>& who can be meaner<br>than a woman<br>who desires<br>the only room with a view?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even in chess<br>she shouts:<br>'Off with their heads!'<br>& the poor king<br>walks one step forward,<br>one step back.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I began<br>by loving women,<br>loving myself<br>despite my mother's lesson,<br>loving my ten fingers,<br>ten toes, my puckered navel,<br>my lips that are too thick<br>& my eyes the color of ink.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Because I believed in them,<br>I found gentle men.<br>Because I loved myself,<br>I was loved.<br>Because I had faith,<br>the unicorn licked my arm,<br>the rabbit nestled in my skirts,<br>the griffin slept<br>curled up at the bottom<br>of my bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bitter women,<br>there is milk under this poem.<br>What you sow in blood<br>shall be harvested in honey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Erica+Jong">Erica Jong</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=389844" data-title="Blood & Honey de Erica Jong" data-description="I began by loving women
& the love turned
to bitterness.

My mother, the bitter,
whose bitter lesson-
trust no one,
especially no male-
caused me to be naive
for too many years,
in mere rebellion
against that bitterness.

If she was Medea,
I would..."></div>
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