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“The I you know isn’t me, you said, truthtelling liar My roots are not my chains And I to you:   Whose hands have grown through mine?   Owl-voiced I cried then:   Who? But yours was the one, the only eye assumed Did we turn each other into liars? holding hands with each others’ chains?” — Adrienne Rich

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The I you know isn’t me, you said, truthtelling liar My roots are not my chains And I to you:   Whose hands have grown through mine?   Owl-voiced I cried then:   Who? But yours was the one, the only eye assumed Did we turn each other into liars? holding hands with each others’ chains?
— Adrienne Rich