Rue

Woman of Sorrows

Ophelia

drowned hair floating among the weeds

slashing with her jagged edges

the drums talked in her bones

but she couldn’t interpret

what they said

she’d loved the world once

so Alive

            everything Wild

gripped tightly between thighs

but that last time

            the last time

they made love heavy & slow

like people under water

breathless

tied to the turning wheel

she knew

that no one is remembered

that they always carry their own tombstones

inside them

Do you feel the vastness though?

And just how fleeting every moment is?

the moon a thread of light against the sky

lightning dancing on the horizon

gone beyond gone

she could still move mountains

the moments of a life preserved in stone

grass grown mound

            faded inscription

the cost of freedom

            buried

          in the ground

© 2018 pamela twining

Perfect

her eyes never opened

her tiny feet & hands showed no lines

minute body in a shoebox

stood lonely on the table

in a party dress

her birthday

deathday

celebrating her first nine months

her moving living spirit inhabited me

I had held her for a moment

no bigger than a handsbreadth

a heartbreath

that scent

that baby scent

perfection

in the quietest span of time

anyone could imagine

she was so anxious to come

so, blessing us she flew into the world

too easy to say an angel

what else could she be with no sins

no sorrows

her soul a drift of purest snow

her breath a forgotten wind

she never saw us with her eyes

but sensed us in the time of mourning

she gifted us fragility

she let us know

that even broken dreams

are Life to Spirit

that weight as of a wisp

a feather

an infinite time

I felt her in my deep

my deep

the pool with no bottom

the well of letting go

should I be glad she’ll never know

the bleakness of a world

where children live in cages

where hard and ugly taunts

surround her difference?

is it selfish to be sad

I’ll never tie her ribbons

listen to her secrets

heal her wounds?

I held her just that one brief moment

touched skin as delicate

as flower petals

unbruised by the rough grip of Life

before I had to give her back

to the earth

to the sky she came from

to tell of innocence and immortality

to remind us that perfection lies

                                in not having lived at All

in the World

© 2018 pamela twining

Confiteor (I Confess)

it was my fault

for being young female and alone

on dark streets

it was my fault

for speaking to a man I didn’t know

it was my fault

for wearing shorts tight jeans fitted slacks

a gauzy skirt a long skirt a short skirt

it was my fault

for thinking it was just a friendly conversation

it was my fault

for letting him buy me a drink

it was my fault

for walking home from the bus stop at night

it was my fault

for not being violent enough

for not screaming loud enough

for being so scared no sound would come out at all

it was my fault it was my fault it was my fault

I confess I bare my soul I bury my soul

I tell the almighty powers

the police the teachers my parents

and they tell me it was my fault

that I shouldn’t have been there

that I shouldn’t have worn that

that I should have been home

that I should have been studying

that I should have been decently silent

that I never should have laughed

accepted that drink

walked down that street

you get what you ask for

you get what you deserve

I have sinned exceedingly

in thought word and deed

and my judges are men and mock-virgins

women who have never looked outside the world

described by patriarchy

defined by the judges

men whose hands a

re not clean

women who have never questioned the boundaries

because when they stepped outside they were punished

much the same as I will be

the only forgiveness is Silence

the only forgetting is Silence

the Silence is Deafening

mea culpa mea culpa mea maxima culpa

© 2018 pamela twining