Erica Jong - Blood & Honey lyrics

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 be Candide & bleed in every s**ual war, & water my garden with menstrual blood & grow the juiciest fruits. (Like the woman who watered her roses with blood & won all the prizes, though no one knew why.) If she was Lady Macbeth, I would be Don Quixote- & never pa** up a windmill without a fight, & never choose discretion over valor. My valor was often foolish. I was rash (though others called me brave). My poems were red flags To lure the bulls. The picadors smelled blood & jabbed my novels. I had only begun by loving women- & ended by hating their deceit, hating the hate they feed their daughters, hating the self-hate they feed themselves, hating the contempt they feed their men, as they claim weakness- their secret strength. For who can be crueler than a woman who is cruel out of her impotence? & who can be meaner than a woman who desires the only room with a view? Even in chess she shouts: 'Off with their heads!' & the poor king walks one step forward, one step back. But I began by loving women, loving myself despite my mother's lesson, loving my ten fingers, ten toes, my puckered navel, my lips that are too thick & my eyes the color of ink. Because I believed in them, I found gentle men. Because I loved myself, I was loved. Because I had faith, the unicorn licked my arm, the rabbit nestled in my skirts, the griffin slept curled up at the bottom of my bed. Bitter women, there is milk under this poem. What you sow in blood shall be harvested in honey.