beginnings

A child forced to hopeless obliviation long before
a chance for clarity, for sense of agency,
for a self to determine, undermined.
Violation, violent broken boundaries;
a monster not because fearsome,
because grotesque beyond comfort.
Safe to hate, at a distance.
A twisted face to pin on evil shades, to
spit out sobbing poisons that paint
concealing lies that harden into revelations,
legends, the stuff of nightmares
and deflected guilt.
A child wants the safety of hearth and tribe,
of happy fairytales, everybody well fed and
tucked to bed, caressed in love that hugs away
the slavering beast.
A child wants, a busy mother wants,
a charming serpent, cowering servant, honest merchant
wants. Voice of mystery, soothing harmony,
innocent pleasure.

Sing for your supper; patrons toss coins to amuse
their cultured appetites.
A darkened Church (candles saved for opulent ritual
-- none may steal this God’s fire), blood sacrifice.
Taste of copper and iron.
We are of the Earth, of Her mighty Sun, of
tides and moonbeams and molten seas.
Not love --
chemistry, explosions, immortal fire.
I have wandered, sent forth as a leaf in the wind,
as a pebble scoured by erratic waves, as
a child of Man loosened from mortality.
If there are stories I could tell my mind
to feel safety in dreaming, to feel
a possibility of home,
I have yet to find them.
Still, I listen for a voice to believe, for a song
that might feel like hope,
or finality.


January 20, 2013