Becoming me was Blasphemy

Becoming me -

an act of blasphemy,

a mockery of the doctrine

forced upon me.

Hail Mary, full of grace,

do you see me as a disgrace?

Mary Magdalane,

why must they call us whores?

Is it a mortal sin

to want something more?

As if questioning their catechism

were the catalyst

for the cataclysm.

Eight of Swords

I turn the knob

and step inside

a land of shadows,

shoes that never fit.

I hide.

Tripping over heels and counterfeit relics

Unsteady ground,

shapeless aesthetic.

But sometimes courage arrives,

quietly,

when I dig through clothing

of seasons past,

searching for a silhouette

unmasked.

They whisper -

“this closet is not a sanctuary.”

It’s a prison cell

with an unlocked door.

So why do I stay in exile?

I hold the key,

but remain captive

to the question,

what will they think of me?

Modern Match Girl

I tried to find warmth by selling my light -

trading matches for money,

clasping loose change in the cold

as if silver could shield me from the ice.

Begging for shelter

while shivers set in,

ignoring the blue tint to my skin -

numbness, tingling

tunnel-vision mission,

recklessness dressed as ambition.

Barefoot in a blizzard

after pawning my shoes -

it’s risky business

when the collateral is you.

Sepsis setting in

before arriving at the station,

freezing, frozen -

a corpse clutching coins in the snow.

What an unfortunate way to go,

to sell your warmth to the world

as you die in the snow.

Once Upon a Remembering

Understand

to be understood

begins

with a misunderstanding

The discord between

desire and duty

shining and shrinking

A trance required to

trace the source

of the name of the speaker

behind the voice

An identity stolen from birth

Bottle fed an elixir

infused with a generational curse

But one bite of the apple

reverses the verse

Devouring fruit from the tree of knowledge

frees the mind from the captor’s bondage

How does one awake from the spell of slumber

when one’s tongue is tied to the lips of another?

Refuse his kiss

And become your own prince.

Did faith in the fairytale steal your sovereignty?

Was it fiction or non?

A book of folklore,

misguided morals,

flipping the script on

what’s right

and what’s wrong

Tell me,

Are you Robin Hood or are you King John?

A Declaration of Independence

“You’ve changed,” he said.

I paused before proceeding

with my public pledge of

self allegiance.

((.breath.))

“And you haven’t,” I replied

with righteous retaliation,

“you were only invested in my stagnation.”

”I’ve grown,

while you’ve remained

unaltered.

Change returned me to my

own altar.

This mausoleum is my own,

dispose of your skeletons

and go.”

Drown me so I can Breathe

My eyes look to you

to know who to be

or what to do.

I stay quiet

to keep you silent.

I remind my mouth to smile,

knowing any other demeanor

could turn your words vile.

My survival

dependent on the denial

of my inner compass

that begs me to abandon ship.

To walk the plank right now

is to accept my defeat,

my final bow.

Yet staying onboard

is to live on death row,

uncertain if my killer

is above

or below.

What move do I make?

Do I jump?

And take a leap of faith,

praying the waters

are gracious guides,

ensuring my safety

in low and high tides?

Or do I stay

and continue to masquerade,

wishing on stars,

hoping one day

you’ll change?

If I drop my mask,

will it drop my anchor?

...or will I learn

to breathe underwater?

Perhaps hope in another

is a dangerous thing,

but hope from within

builds the sail

that will call in the wind.

Mesmerized by my mystery,

greeted by waves

that whisper clarity

It’s when I leap

that my eyes return to me -

not afraid to see,

me.