My arms have gone

My arms have gone

they jumped overboard

all that is left are the

blood stains of yesterday

and the stumps of tomorrow

still I pick at them

the scabs of my eternal imprisonment

asking “when does this end, when will it end?!”

Knowing full well that the death of yesterday is the birth of tomorrow

and so I am cradled

in the womb of the wound

hushed at the bossom of the great mother

who holds me steady and reminds me of my birthing teeth

and my small hands that scratch at rocks

yet are capable of so much love

 

I am the body in purgatory that speaks when it is not needed

I am the gluttony and the prudence that weighs the scales down till they bend at the joints

I’ll be the flower that in death by starvation in the desert of my mind

casts its seed into the fertile land of the heart

to let it bloom

 


-Ben

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2 thoughts on “My arms have gone

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