Woman
written by: Talida Barbe
Blind to the ills of fate,
She falls into the abyss of pain,
Her flesh minced by rotten hands,
And calmly rises
from the dust of silence.
Sculpted from tears,
Bored by the shadows of time,
Lost to the tumult of imagined sins,
She rises from mire,
Longing for the souls
she lost or delivered,
Souls gushed from her flesh
that defies any earthly virtue.
Born in the agony of love,
She speaks up…
And she herself becomes… love.
I was born in late autumn. I like to seek light in the darkness. Often I find myself doing so through words that turn into imageries that are both a blessing and a burden for the heart. I love natural imagery. What defines me? Solitude, nature, and the uncanny.
