Galactic Equator: A Collection of Poems

Woman, A Healing Misery

I am falling yet I cannot scream.

I hum your voice but you choose not to hear.

Save me, my love. Save our love.

Rescue us from our nemesis of fate.

Or perhaps on time has come too late.

Perhaps push has come to shove,

And shove has come to strike,

Against my heart with the violent, never-ending mystic of your nature.

How beautiful was I when you struck me down?

The waters bleached me white and made me seem so light.

Like wedding nights when women drown themselves in love and fright.

Oh, how I must have been made a doll.

If only you witnessed the currents constant pull on my body,

A force unknown but desired by men,

Wishing such power could be cultivated,

Once tired of we.

Miserable, Miserable I sleep.

Drifting in the currents next to Mildred, Leanne, and Annie who holds her mother's hand.

We hopeless generations of wonder who sink into the false promise of you,

Hoping never to drift but if anything survive once the two of us have died.

Deceased I am:

A woman rotting away in her first curse, such being her birth.

A damned creation always fledged in guilt and shame,

Radical if for one second should she think that you are the one to blame.

Four fathoms and two feet deep,

Tugged down by the chasms of union,

Weight added with the words "I do" and the lock to a chain of forever around my finger,

Look as it cries in the moonlight that seeps through the deep blues.

Look as it transfixes my mind into always thinking of you.

But do you wonder of me?

Surely, my skin of no soul at least pretends to want your consideration.

Foolish I am; such contemplation, to men, brings degradation.

Hard and cold is the ancient ocean floor.

Decorated in a myriad abandoned like garbage.

Love has come onto us like the prey of predator,

Home has grown onto me like the anathema of my name:

"The walking body of Mrs. His-Love.

The remains of Mrs. His-Love

All the world must ever remember of Mrs. His-Love

May Mr. Love find peace."

Miserable, miserable being.

Have not with tears has been made your sea?

Awaken, poor robbed soul.

Through deadened deserted waters flow free.

Heal, you miserable woman,

Heal, you proud woman,

Heal, you born again woman,

Miss Healing-Misery.