“A woman’s curse will thorn whoever messes with her.”

She didn’t say it loudly.

She didn’t raise her voice.

But it echoed through my spine

like thunder held in silence.

There is something ancient in a woman’s hurt.

Something the world underestimates —

until it unravels.

She may weep. She may stay silent.

But she sees… she remembers.

And when she curses,

It’s not about revenge.

It’s a final ritual of release —

a return to sender.

It’s not a threat.

It’s the truth our grandmothers never wrote down —

but we carry it in our blood.

— M.j.P