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Visual-lies

PUNCTURE-WOMB
 
 
 
Creating pretty holes and lovely hallways,
 making spaces for stained glass panes.
Now sunlit, with vistas of red; soft on edge,
my room with a view.
 
You’re Holy Grace;
 your womb, your waste.
You’re Whole Erased;
your hole, Debased.
 
A life cycle of digging, scratching;
made in place and left to surface.
All has been to tear away, bi-sect;
and separate from home.
 
To flee home;
To find home.
And to always be,
On Your Way Home.

(2010)

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