Thursday, September 08, 2005

Untitled poetry.

Nanna swallow me.
Edin Na zu idimmu
Call me ditallu

My desire is
left too long in the sunshine.
Too small to be seen.

In dark room I
Grow like a hot-house flower.
Turned away from light.

Living a life
--what's the purpose of?
of only survival.
--what's the purpose of?
Where joy
--what's the purpose of?
is only an interesting idea.
--what's the purpose of?

Beyond the nefarious tide of rushing waters
inside my mind.
The sun is setting beyond
the stiff horizon.
Twilight is lowered
behind my eyes.
There will be no sleep
this night.

The battle cry of a woman unafraid to face down the dark.
Her eyes are open.
A muse made flesh.
She does not charm and does not whisper.
Hers are words of war.
Screaming raging lady.

I see her open mouthed face and know envy.
A sense of my own buried screams.
Buried beneath layers of bullshit decorum and flagging grace.
The strength I knew lays in an unmarked grave.
I dug it with my own two hands.

I lay in a bed of flames.
Cradled and revived by embers.
Curl up beneath the ashes-
of a life I never lived.
Waiting for the moment of my birth.
Flesh made whole by scouring fire.

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