Me Too

averie-woodard-114288-unsplash

I.

She penetrated the jungle

On a mission

To bring people what they didn’t know

They wanted

 

The blood of a sacrifice

The wine of one anointed

The whole haunted history of the West

She came to install it

Into her savage breast

 

Sometimes she still felt civilized

Most of the time not

Most of the time

She felt the jungle inside her

Wild, growing

Thick, hot

 

Birds cawing

Monkeys swinging tree to tree

Insects flying, snakes crawling

Inside her

The rainforest grows

Unceasing

 

From the outside they say

You would never know

 

She smiles

With the smile she bought from a dentist

On 40th Street

When her bite began to rot

From the bittersweet success

Of too much sugar

Too much stress

 

And now her skin is snow

And she wears Western dress

 

 

II.

 

She knows how to find out anything

About anyone

How to pull books from the Internet

Or a pre-intelligent library shelf

Anything about anyone

Except herself

Marveling

How long it takes

For things to grow back

 

For a long time

After the fire raged and died

And everything inside was black ash

And she was no more valuable

Than a stack of cash

From a world fallen

 

After the volcano

Had hurled its mighty puke

Onto the civilization next door

Onto a plaque of humans

Who received the rebuke

Even though such a thing is never meant

For them

And even when it happens

Without seeming intent

 

After understanding

It is not in our nature

To be an accident

But the way of man

Is to make meaning

Of some unimaginable tangent

Of the divine plan

 

She grieved

 

And to this day she refuses

To believe in this god

Or the ways he tried to deceive her

From her own god

Who rises again

Primitive and odd

Like some strange ritual object

From a temple in Bali

Or an ocean fog

 

Hers is a goddess now

She is Shakti

She is Kali

Her god is a presence, a flame

Who knows how to exist

Without a name

 

Not blood or water

Not bread or wine

Her god is not human

Or divine

 

Her god is a knot

He can never cut through

 

He will not emerge

From the jungle of her maker

He will not tame her

Or overtake her

 

The man who came

And tried to scorch the earth

To clothe the naked

And shame their very birth

The man who could not look

Into her eyes

And see himself

Or see his god

On his mission

To a sterile eternity

 

 

III.

 

She remembers now

The blazing terror

And the threat of hurt

She remembers his hands

And the smell of soap

And dirt

 

She remembers the jungle

And how it used to grow

Before he penetrated

What he could not ever truly know

How to love

Or recognize

 

And now

She carries that jungle inside

A jungle that never dies

But it grows

Strong and in secret

It grows deep

Hidden and wide

A seed

Refusing to fall

Refusing to bleed away

 

Yet she still prays

That love still stay

Alive

 

By Julie Flanders

Photo by Averie Woodward

#octoberprojectmusic.com

#julieflanderspoetry.com

#aprilispoetrymonth

 

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About octoberprojectmusic

Julie Flanders Marina Belica Emil Adler
This entry was posted in Love, Me Too, October Project, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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