Under the Shadow of a New Moon

They watch,

night vision,

and you can

feel them

see you.

Breath rises,

a fog to

peer through.

Still,

silence.

Touching

the darkness,

with outstretched

fingertips,

you make

your way.

Will the

noise,

of your

shaking

feet,

finally make

them

move?

Still,

silence.

You wait,

frozen,

within a

moat of the

vapor of

your own

breath.

The smallest

bits of

light,

relief against

the darkness.

When a flash

could be

a retina,

you wait,

still,

silence.

You wait.

 

The Gilded Mirror

I sat watching,

quietly,

almost holding my breath

as the grey sledge hammer

swung deftly

towards the gilded mirror.

How the great hammer shown

magnificent,

it’s reflection framed

as it was,

in that great, gold frame,

scrolls dazzling my eyes

as the light bantered playfully,

the glass like a lake,

still and waiting.

The sound so shrill,

as it erupted,

the smashing sang like ripples,

the tinkling shards tiny notes

in a sea that has been blinded,

except for the mosaic,

tiny bits of vision,

that lay at your feet,

remnants of itself.

The Massacres

When we died,

some shed tears,

but they hid them,

for fear that

they, too,

would be taken,

slowly dissolved

by the lapping

flames,

licking and dancing

to the music of our

screams and cries,

as we separated ourselves

from the pain

that for a brief

moment,

was our only

tie

to life.

Still Alive

What do you do,

when a woman you know

a woman you care for,

someone you cherish,

joins your sisterhood

of hollowed eyes,

tells you she was

raped,

and you say,

ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€

the words sounding

like sour milk

in the summer heat.

The words not spoken,

the shared look,

exchanged in knowing,

in the silence,

so much more

poignant;

it is the silence

that echoes through

lifetimes

of women,

joined in this

forced

sisterhood of being

hated,

despised for our

power,

our beauty,

our knowing,

so many more of us

share our silence,

telling each other,

and no one else,

knowing that there is

no justice,

I say from our silence

forge steel,

together,

to slay the enemy of our

wholeness,

free ourselves from our

enslavement,

our servitude,

For too long we

cry alone in

darkness.

I say make that darkness

our armor,

our stealth,

we have been expected to

bear these wounds,

our oppression,

so we do.

Only our strength,

our vigor,

our refusal to submit

to those who try to

tear us into

fragments,

Even if we must

submit

to stay alive,

Only our refusal to

stop living,

to go on,

sisters on a journey

of diverse

healing,

Only this Will

to exist can lead us

to freedom,

from the hollow,

the horror,

the pain,

the wounds,

the scars,

the nightmares,

only through refusal

to be the victim

forever,

can heal

a wounded

soul,

behind a face

that screams a

silent

no.