Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Feral Mothering by Lesley 'Orion' Johnson

Art by Arna Baartz


She comes to an abyss,
Across it she saw a warm dwelling & realized how tired she'd grown.
How much she'd forgiven.
A ways down the cliff edge she saw what looked like a bridge
It's faint and dark where it crossed, she could barely make it out
But she imagined
It connecting
To shelter.
She stepped into what seemed only shadow but she just believed so much 
Seemed simple, 
innocent love to home,
Slipping.
She tracked back.
She found her footing again
& felt foolish
Thinking it so easy to cross the abyss
Almost like a trick someone else left
She walked further
Thinking their must be a way.
Another bridge seemingly built by a legacy
Grand
Stately,
It seemed a formality of performance was demanded to cross,
A secret courtesy expected
A lock,
A gate.
On the other side of the bridge she saw flashes of light like cameras flashing. 
A gust of thick wind pushed her to the gates & in her ears she heard,
'You're perfect.' 'You're just what we need.' 'I want to be you!!
A frothing pulled that she struggled to hold her ground within
Sliding across & down to the limb, the trunk, reaching to hold on,
Crawling she pulled from the force of the locked door.
Shuddered from the pull of it.
Vomited from being seen as things she never knew herself to be.
Shaking she followed the tree line along the cliff,
Passing what appeared more innocent shadow bridges
She continued,
Less interested in falling
It becomes colder & her toes begin to numb,
Then there 
Almost blue 
A frozen bridge
Like a tidal wave of power
Still in time 
solid
Muscles tight & tense joints 
Her foot taps to test the ice
& eases up the ample arch
As she skates the bridge narrows & constricts until she's walking across a fine line
Black below
& white dividing it
Where has she gotten herself
She falls back hardly able to breath
Gasping as lightly as she can
Tears burn her eyes & she scoots gently back 
Slowly
Unsure she wants to try again
Wishing she never had
She makes it back to the edge
Before the abyss
She collapses to her side
& curls into a ball
Staring 
Across a schism
So dark
& hidden
She can't see the hut 
In the darkness
She forgets why it was ever 
So alluring.
She's tired now
Right here.
Just stay.
Feral.

An excerpt from Single Mothers Speak on Patriarchy - out now!

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