Destroying His Image
I lie staring at the barren ceiling -
Flat, lifeless and white; no sound;
The knife is inserted; it cuts;
My spirit breaks, my mind is tortured as
I see visions of tiny, bleeding hands;
Still I consent to a violation by the demon of death;
A brutal sacrifice of His own image as the hands reach out to me.
Choking on tears that soak the sheet beneath me;
I must gasp for air; my fingers grasp the table,
My chest heaves as my soul is cut out -
Ripped apart and mangled;
Nausea consumes me as
I drown in my own sweat.
The sound of crushing bone fills my head as
Part of me is crucified;
Humiliation stains my soul,
Raped by his violent hands;
They destroy, not create; pushing, pulling,
Defiling a sacred, secret place.
My own voice is inaudible -
God! I am terrified.
The ceiling spins as the pain grows intense;
I am as helpless as the one inside;
And my womb is drained of life -
A vacancy filled by death, darkness,
No light; misery in the hollow place;
Satan clutches my heart, threatening my sanity and
It is done. I lie bleeding.
There are no tears in this valley
Where they drape a sterile sheet
to conceal the grave - my womb, now a chamber
for the execution;
I am reduced to nothing,
A traitor of the worst kind -
I am left alone - no feeling ...
I sentence myself for this crime.
Laura Marie Muglia