This week’s post is a poem I wrote about the pain of broken community. Whether communion be broken by close friend, family member, or society person, we all can relate to one who feels hurt by (what she feels is) betrayal, who yet refuses to let go.
With jagged spoon, you gouged my aorta
quartered an important organ, slopped it on the sidewalk,
mortal, palpitating, hanging by shreds
part of me
We are each other; I am you; you are me
Communal veins and arteries
my silent pleas, my unheard cries
died on lips
when I saw you
The Ban is done.
Quivering at time’s grave,
my sulfur tears
pour for the light terror
that thrills you in its grand resolution
of the mystery of community,
where we sip each other’s blood.
So how could you break faith?
I am a woman because
your relieving amputation,
your risky prevention,
is my suffering anguish.
I will forever agonize over the murdered Now
and hope for you
through quiet love you didn’t ask for.