A premature lamb lay in the pool of red,
her intestines and stomach spewn about, sputtering,
quivering, left on the ground as a sacrifice,
unworthy to be displayed on an alter.
At night she was *****, torn apart by
a Jackel, a Tiger, and a Snake
who chewed
but regurgitated her remains.
Believing death would soon come,
she lay, like a whisper
neither living nor dying,
only her brain left beating inside her.
Three days passed and she survived.
The gods refused to take her soul,
she was not worthy They said, hardly
notable and lacking in value for sacrifice.
she was from Cain's livestock, They said
she wasn't the fattest nor the healthiest.
Spotted, sickly, and skinny, unfortunatley born,
neither a blessing, nor a curse- insignificant to be either.
Abandoned, abused, and neglected in her first life
bullied everywhere she went, a mockery, except
as she glanced at her reflection in the stream, She saw
beauty and magic, and expected to blossom like an evening primrose.
she acquired religion, the only gift she received from her birth mother
she clutched the ideals and smiled despite her cross because of it
All of her ailments, her deformities, she bore
in Christ's name
In her next life, she tried to live forgetting the past, but it
pursued her like wild fire drawn to a black locust tree
she could not hide who she was, for she bore
the mark of Cain on her forehead, through no fault of her own.
A new chapter, she fell in love and was betrayed thrice.
The Jackel, the Tiger, and the Snake came,
upturning her life ferociously, mindlessly, recklessly, carelessly
but gone with the gust of wind.
she had nothing, but her will
until she lost that too.
she looked around the world and saw happiness
but none of it was hers, because she was nothing.
she dared not dream,
since Loki would, for sport,
create more illusions til she
could no longer discern the salt of reality.
after the storm, she opened her eyes and saw
her own blood splattered on the brown patch of a muddy forest.
The Jackel, the Tiger, and the Snake liked her smell. They chewed her flesh but could not digest it. They regurgitated her remains and left.
The gods did not accept her as a sacrifice,
they spat on her with water from the sky and closed their eyes.
her soul wished to part, water from her eyes wished to escape,
but she was not gifted enough to cry, nor blessed enough to die.
Not even the earth was willing to take her in.
her body did not decompose, but stayed there- not quite dead.
Passerbys poked at her with a long stick, but did not touch,
nor partake of the flesh, nor bury her.
Some simply walked around her, others walked on top,
A few deficated on her, but no one saw the life in her eyes,
nor the tears unable to be released, nor the hope
still daring to survive in the cells of her blood on the ground
Daring to Hope from the Ground (written 9/2/2014)
