Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Poem

ORIGIN OF DOUBT

In the days shaped by torrents of death,
men brought meat from the forest
coopers bent boards
millers ground grain
farmers butchered swine
lumberjacks fell trees.
All this and more women have done.

In the days shaped by birth
women conceived and bore babies.
They cooked in caves
swept snow from hovels,
washed the walls of huts
and hung curtains in log cabins
to get to a warm condo.

In the days shaped by anarchy
the voices of the dead
prevailed over the screams of birth
and the tongues of men curled with many gods
while women fed their young.

God, divided by three or more,
became man by three or more
while women, muted by a physicality of childbearing
and weakened with pleasure in their young,
looked on with their secondary beliefs.

Patriarchs have preserved the souls of the female
though some women can’t believe religiously,
not that the holy words are incredible
nor that faith is unnatural
but that God is divided by three or more.

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