I make. I move. I pull. I grind. I hate. I love. I tear. I cut. I design. I map. I morph. I incise. I tie. I sew. I plunge. I roll. I mold. I crush.
I shape. I smother. I drag. I take. I find. I manage.
I exist as a memory conceived of my past lives of the pulp of the dried and dust.
This is a lovers quarrel, one without bodies. I fight your memories of inheritance.
Where does this leave us> Amidst the rubble that will be buried
beneath the muck that those about have discarded.
Bodies lay amidst memories of forgotten torment. I shape it into a new terrain, one that brings death and ruins into reality. A tangible space that creates hope of new and fear of past. Evoking the senses of trauma that traces our veins that we have been taught to ignore, driven into the arms of our tormentors. Safety and nurturement in the womb of our ancestry manipulated by man and redesigned by woman. This is what happens when gods are silenced and replaced by one. The oppressor of man, parent, lover, child, friend, disguised in a companions garb. Unsheath the objects and leave them bare, edges exposed and hilt buried.
We have been by those from above. We are more. We are many.