The Butcher Of Intuition: A Poem

Scroll down to content

What would have happened

If you hadn’t burned down

The soil that you raged and rested on?

Would it have been easier for me to move?

Would I have felt my own body?

Wouldn’t your words have overwritten my own texture?

Overruled my gestures, would I have existed

And lived outside of your dictation?

I was a cloud when I should have been the tempest.

I cried when I should have yelled.

I smiled when I despaired.

You tore out one brick after the other

And told me that I should be a fortress

Whilst your hands ruined me

And I was forced to find shelter amongst the bricks you stole

My own within you, aggrandised and reinforced,

Integrated, your fortress,

And I lost faith in the holiness of my abandoned and revisited ruins

As I trusted ancestral hands instead of my own body.

Photo by Ioana Motoc on

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: