A little rant and a p-o-e-m in light of increasing domestic abuse numbers (within this Covid period) and ‘legal’ /unrecognised domestic abuse – depending on country, perspective, bribery and misogyny. It is not OK to condone the notion that women exist to be beaten, abused and trodden on.
Bury me deeply so that the sun can’t find my heart. It will not oblige if torn from my smouldering flesh; soothing fractals in the shadows of my skin still glow with the pearls of my faith, a faith that now runs as sweat down my beaten face. My soul was always on fire – the reason your hands are now burning.
Bury me deeply so that the crows you tame will not abuse me for all eternity, when solace is no longer a sacred place and death becomes an arbitrary mulch.
Bury me deeply, so that when your fists rage and pound against the rise of dank, dark soil, I will not feel you. And when you scream and shout, begging for grief and release, since I am not there to torture, the crows will gather once again, but, you will watch them shield me. So, you should bury me deeply.
We are more than breath and bones, or the dust of a soul’s divide that gilds our pale faces with heavenly alchemy; we are combined essences swirling underneath complex skin with all of love’s triumphant splendour placed on our brows.
We are more than breath and bones with no more taught sinew to soothe since all mapped outreaches tethered by distance and timid pasts have been conquered, and before intruders, unseen, steal west with their disgrace. We stay low and soft within this warm, diaphanous wrap; it is no fair costume this skin of faux silk.
We are more than breath and bones, as within each of us lies such vast continents yet to be stroked, to align with us under our blue skies. Synapses crawl to make us, messaged and volatile, their eager grip might conquer us still… we are more than breath and bones, and we will not be torn asunder.
We are more than breath and bones, or the thousands of strange shadows that tend us; each have all but one shade, and poor imitations lend counterfeit images, all of you. But, the truth lies in a kiss of your cheek, and there I see us in every shape and shadow we know.