Thursday, January 8, 2009

unbirthing

My skin is taut--
stretched
to the breaking point--
being pulled
from all sides

by the old
and the young--

The cells s e p a r a t e
at an a g o n i z i n g l y s l o w p a c e

and I silently bleed.


I call out
as the waves of pain
overtake me,
my lifeblood
spent and empty,
beyond sustenance,
no longer nourishing.

The placental essence

a rusty dust under my feet


to be blown away

by the wind.

4 comments:

Charli said...

This is a great poem - I really like your use of space here. How you fill up the "page" with your words for an added effect. Really nice.

Dymphna (4HisChurch) said...

Thanks, Charli! I love the use of space as a means of expression.

Linda S. Socha said...

Very Powerful poem...I can step into that scenerio with your words. Really well done
Linda

Dymphna (4HisChurch) said...

Thank you so much, Linda!

Poems © Gemma W. Wilson