Quenched Fire

I locked my bedroom door

hiding like a wounded dog

without cleansing my injuries.

There’s a blue hole in my belly,

the color of dreams stronger than life.

 

My unborn children knock on the temple bones,

stepping over my heart, going down

along with my wishes,

rough sand grinding in my hungry stomach.

 

I’m a woman with thousands of arms

rotating over head like a sword dance.

Someday they will fall over me,  

thorns will spring out from the bed

where I’m freezing.

 

Two icons hang above:

Jesus has a heart in flames,

his Mother holds in her hands

a flower shaped heart.

If I look closely I can see

that clouds are small angels

covering in snow my blue hollow...

Reviews

[Marie]

But you are a Hindu Goddess, are you not?...with all those arms...

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Not quite...this poem was actually inspired by my unfulfilled desire to have a child :(
Also somewhere in the bedroom where I slept in my grandparents' house two icons were hung above the bed - Jesus and Virgin Mary, with their hearts appearing visible, maybe I will post the photos, or one of them.

[Marie]

I should think that would frighten a child.

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

I don't understand what you mean. The icons are quite delicate, not frightening. The feeling in this poem is sad and I tried to express the lack of a child in relation with religion.

[Ellen Clery]

Powerfully evocative poem. Thank-you for sharing.

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Thanks.