Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Soraya M, As She Ascends


"There was a stone in my son's hand,
And it left the fingers that once graced my cheek.
It moved at me with such speed
That it pierced my heart before it ever ripped my flesh;
My world spun about me, my intentions became red vapor.
The hand that I longed to touch,
The wispy kisses that were like grains of sugar in my dreams,
All before me, I saw them fall into the void.

"The crowd soaked with bloodlust,
And I, so naïve in my gifted innocence...
Did they ever say they knew Soraya?
Was my heart such a mystery before God?
And my lucidity forgotten, the air around me vibrating,
Stale, tasteless,
Except for the salt from my own dripping wounds,
And the light losing color as screams sloshed like waves.

"I was a wife—I remember my wedding day,
I remember my anxiousness
To give myself to my darling,
My hero, my lover, my accuser, my hater...
And then there was guile on his tongue,
Smoke on his singed lips,
And a black crust around that pitiful waste
That beat in his chest.

"When I was a little girl,
My eyes were bright, the infinity surrounded me,
And it caressed my soft skin;
It was butterfly wings on my tender optimism;
The glow from the morning ebbed with my age,
As my face matured, and my hands grew strong.

"Now, the dust has choked my throat,
The rich dark blood in my hair that was once
My glorious covering,
And I, alone in destitution of spirit,
Embraced in all senses of pain,
Can find only solace in the hint of a hereafter.

"I wish for my new world,
A world where my hero would come,
Where I am not a harlot for wanting a warrior,
And my wild feminine heart is pursued;
I wish for any place with a gentle presence,
Where I am no longer alone.

"I wait for my last breath, my last heartbeat;
I wait for my world to dim,
For my sons to vanish from my scarred and foggy eyes;
I wait for the absence of vile humanity.
As I look at the men, the cowards of my life's kingdom,
I pray for the lost.

"As I gasp and choke on the tinny copper of my brain's blood,
I dreamt that a man was ever born.
I thought I knew so many, knew vibrant and leathered strength,
But I was the courted fool, surrounded by empty shells,
Hollow souls, and dead souls, still lingering in the world,
Bathed with fear, spiced heavy with lust, depraved, without love.

"If I am guilty,
It is of not loving myself,
If I am a whore,
It is because I lay passionately with hope for their hearts;
My sons—my beautiful boys, bent to their father.
I pray my death will give them tears,
River guides that bring them home to know,
I forgive them with my whole being."

(Originally published in The Auburn Circle, Fall 2013.)

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