Wrought
by Crystal Bowden
A weightiness strung across an exhausted body
dragging it to the deepest depths of the water,
thick and murky and without clarity
overtaking the mind, the senses, the heart
squashing everything in its path of destruction, turned grey and darkened.
I remember reading once of a woman in a garden
herself exposed, relief brought by bleeding crimson, the dribbling, then gushing
deterioration of the body as that which makes us womanly
flows back into nature, returning to the earth
a symbol of the cycle of life it has wrought out.
Flesh peels aside to expose the hiding child
tucked away within, reminders that she still desperately seeks love and
hasn’t found the solace of a decision well made.
Maybe forgiveness is never about the Other,
but only ever about releasing yourself for what you’ve done.
dragging it to the deepest depths of the water,
thick and murky and without clarity
overtaking the mind, the senses, the heart
squashing everything in its path of destruction, turned grey and darkened.
I remember reading once of a woman in a garden
herself exposed, relief brought by bleeding crimson, the dribbling, then gushing
deterioration of the body as that which makes us womanly
flows back into nature, returning to the earth
a symbol of the cycle of life it has wrought out.
Flesh peels aside to expose the hiding child
tucked away within, reminders that she still desperately seeks love and
hasn’t found the solace of a decision well made.
Maybe forgiveness is never about the Other,
but only ever about releasing yourself for what you’ve done.
Crystal Bowden is a poet, collagist, and writing coach living outside Atlanta. She prefers to hide away in the woods, chugging coffee, covered in cats. You can find her poetry and collage work featured in Dreamers Magazine, Unlost Journal, Humankind Zine, and zines from Riotgrrl Press.