this is not for me - this god
not its heaven or
its majesty - it is not for me
this art thou
altered throw backs of surplus
word
look! you carry a cracked window on your shoulder
a thread tight
around your neck - pull it
i say, the chimes call
beneath the song of gulls
the birthing of girls
some vines cling, i shall
not cling
who calls my soul - who?
i wrap, case
i transfigure random thought
hold up
the pomegranate
blood
hold - sip from the vessel grail
do it
Do it! you say
No - cut me! this flesh is not for me...
Just cut me! see, See
i too bleed
i bleed - i bleed - i
am girl, I Am a woman
I Bleed
bkmackenzie
copyrighted
For Magpie Tales and d'Verse
Wow... so powerful, Barbara.
ReplyDeleteThanks much Lori...bkm
Deletedef that last bit packs a punch,
ReplyDeletefrom just cut me...i could not look away.
Thanks Brian... So glad you liked it... bkm
DeleteGoodness, I am blown away ~ Terrific voice & imagery at the end is terrific ~
ReplyDeleteThank you Grace it truly means a lot your comments...bkm
DeleteVery powerful write up!!
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading and commenting...bkm
DeleteThis is terrific.. the bleeding and the cracked window on your shoulder... great write...
ReplyDeleteThank you very much for your comments...bkm
DeleteI like the bold pronunciation "i shall / not cling"...I can hear so many voices in every part of the world uttering "i bleed - i bleed - i
ReplyDeleteam girl, I Am a woman
I Bleed"...a powerful write...
Thank you it means a lot your words and appreciation...bkm
Deleteoh heck that last bit made me hold my breath...
ReplyDeleteThank you Claudia. I guess I am getting sick of girls and woman being subject to slavery in an unforgiving world...and it goes on and on...bkm
ReplyDeleteAnd believe me I am far from a feminist
DeleteOh my god.. my skin was tingling, I was holding my breath as I neared the end.. I just loved this.. such a powerful write... amazingly done.. very beautiful...
ReplyDeleteVery strong poem. We, women of the western world, often forget how lucky we are.
ReplyDeleteAs postchristian, I see that all the failing and wounds are in the center and the vitality, the spirit and source, streaming in now from the excluded and outcast. Things turn over; that which was gospel is now tyranny; heretics become saints and women become popes of an undaunted spirit that shines on through it all. Very well done here, the title and poetic and making all suggest that only scattered pieces truly sing.
ReplyDeletePowerful write. And how the flesh is cut away - and not so far away as we think.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Beautiful write, bkm...
ReplyDeleteA couragious and wonderful write Bkm!!
ReplyDeleteA wonderful piece!
ReplyDelete