we need a god who bleeds now
a god whose wounds are not
some small male vengeance
some pitiful concession to humility
a desert swept with drying marrow in honor of the lord
we need a god who bleeds
spreads her lunar vulva and showers us in shades of scarlet
thick and warm
like the breath of her
our Mother is tearing to let us in
this place breaks open like our Mothers bleeding
the planet is heaving
mourning our ignorance
the moon tugs the seas
to hold her....
embrace the swelling hills
I am not wounded I am bleeding to life
we need a god who bleeds now
whose wounds are not the end of anything..
..Ntozake Shange
Posts
.jpg){kind=small}
4 comments:
Dearest Julie, I'm back from my trip and just had the chance to catch up with your blog. The last post and this one are examples of why I adore you. Your heart, your art, the way you think and write - I love them all!
Sending you love, dear friend,
Angela
Angela! Welcome home!...I feel the same about you! Thank you for your caring heart! and your friendship...xoxo
this really speaks to me... just been flicking through other moon posts via link within... you've posted some wonderful words & thoughts about her... (but that doesn't surprise me, lol)
Well, Julie, I've read this poem a few times now since you posted it, and I can make no sense of it. The point of a bleeding god, any bleeding god, eludes me. The moon sure is pretty though.
Post a Comment