What use is a shattered vessel?
What good is a broken girl?
Why do you come to my altar,
the one I tend with gold tears?
I heard that we bleed for our gods
pour out our honey til we weep.
Why is my refuge my death?
Why is my salvation, judgment?
How, oh how, will I survive this?
This terror, this furor, this
sundering apart, bone-fracture
dreams and visions of seraphim,
holy terrors, whispers of the
ancients spear through my ears.
My head is an earthquake, inferno
my heart just a spoil of war
fit for pillage and rape,
then cleaned off,
put on a shrine.
I can’t stand the thought that I
am just the creation of broken gods
I love all that I cannot touch,
I love so much I’m a sacrifice
to some abyss-heart Goddess
to Her gold and red sons
my womb splits and vines
rise up, I pour out!
I pour out! Someone save
my bruise blossom skin
from their touch.
The Divine leaves scars
the Divine is teeth gnashing
death and rebirth and death again
night howler, evening terror, a
whisper that breaks quaking aspen.
I would give up this gift for madness.
I would give up this burden for coffins.
I would pierce my heart with Theresa’s spear
just to put an end to the sleepless gnosis
the eyes upon feathers upon eyes
the raging of my brain.
Someone end my knowing.
There must be a way out
even when I am drowning
somehow, I must learn –