The Blood is the Life
copyright © 2001 c. amaris
I began to bleed on Easter Sunday
blood of christ, blood of women's strength.
Pure red, strained through the centuries
telling tales of past lives, transgressions, repression,
and sins washed away.
Male to male, female to female,
legacies of power, angst, obsessions
burned
domination dripping down,
transcendence buried and erased from the
fertile unconscious flow...
I twirl my bottle blond hair,
bright as gold, yellow blinding as the
newborn son,
and I stench the unseemly flood,
so unclean, unholy, threat to patriarchy
threat to society
--the Magdelen whore,
strength all forbidden
but really, I feel an Iscariot,
a Judas unto myself.
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