outcast | memories of my ghost sista

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all-mother, cemetery, cemetery prayer, Lilith, outcast, poem, Poetry, sonnet, what lasts

I lost the graveyard today — Lilith’s tree,
Her owls and crossroads; all the souls and shades

I’d call on each night that would wait for me
because I loved them — are gone. For decades

I searched for connection to our dead kin;
though I’m not gifted with Sight, wasn’t born

to walk between worlds. Is a grudge a sin
when it’s over all that left you lovelorn

and lost? They came, tore down Her tree today,
smashed Her altar, stole my gifts. It’s what lasts

when Love is elsewhere. When Love is elsewhere
it’s what I need most. This isn’t dismay,

just a sign that Lilith still loves outcasts;
those of us who live on prayer and despair.

Tags

First Lover, First Mother, grace's skin, Lilith, outcast, poem, Poetry, sonnet

“In this first testing ground of the atomic bomb I have seen the most terrible and frightening desolation in four years of war. It makes a blitzed Pacific island seem like an Eden. The damage is far greater than photographs can show.”
–Wilfred Burchett

6th PRAYER:

Coming home in Lilith’s arms must I mount
the sand storm and shamble on toward ancient

Djenne-Djenno; together our names count
very little. What you call pussy, cunt,

bitch, I call mother, niece, aunt. I won’t be
the one who burns your vile house down. You’ll do

that; you’ll raise your own hand, for my story
is of a goddess who said no and who

met a priest wearing authority, cast
out First Wife, First Lover. If you must know

me then enter me like proverbs, grace’s
skin. All those words of yours, like a bomb blast,

simply damns you. Call me a Skank. Tease. Ho.
I am proud to be the child of Bitches.

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

Tag Archives: outcast

what lasts

grace’s skin