She Embroiders Herself

Born under the eyes of a misogynist lineage;

Casandra knelt to her macerated wounds

where fertile seeds planted tomorrow's hope-

those melding dreams over meadows seminal knoll...

The serous creek harrows under Rickert's Bridge

where crawdads and salamanders entertain ideas.

Her thoughts needed freedom from the steeple

of his iron fist...cursing the day she was born...

He crawled on the floors as moon beams revealed

her bedroom privacies were more than nightmares.

His hands smelling of old sinners mulching her soul

with barbed wires and beveled box springs rusty noise...

He rode his hatred with secrecy as cowards do so well

pulling her hair into the brutal filth of his trespassing sin.

Leaving her with those thieving smells of martyring disgust

she embroiders herself with beauty...liberated from those memories...

(Written: June 5^th, 2010 8:37 p/m)

© Poetess Victoria L. McColley

In Joy, In Peace, In Grace

In The Harmony of Love