my purpose

Image

under the sign of Scorpio

the Creator cradled the Pisces moon in His palm

and with His fingertip etched into its surface

the whispers of Buddha,

and Songs of Solomon.

He summoned the goddesses of poetry

 Minerva and Calliope

to straddle its beams

kiss its craters

before His breath

sent moon flurries

fluttering upon my finger to tongue tip

caressing my spirit

naming me

poet.

the inhales of my meditation

are scented by damascus rose

its essence seeps in crevices

worn into my knees from

burmese prayer rugs

my swallows are flavored

by stained glass depicting

the stations of the cross

my words have the queen’s cadence

the king’s english

and the paupers approval

they can call me confused

conflicted

call me crazy

but only He can truly name me

and he named me

poet

i speak therefore i am

i write therefore i be

i be the representation

of escaping degradation through

scripted fantasy in cotton candy colored horizons

where i constructed my castle of refuge

locked the door

prayed for rescue

while i scribed

while i cried

while i tried to rationalize

rape and rejection

for a reason

thieves with devious grins

reduce me to pawn

deem me disposable

a sacred sacrifice

for a greater good

if you would,

Lord hear my prayer

right then and there He called me

poet

right here and now i embrace it

tracing my lineage

from the open mic spots

back to the griots

i revel in their rhythmic revolutions

considered my cause

claimed my position

i am in this

to make a difference

damn the accolades

the praise

and the stage

i wanna create change

give a voice

to the women who can no longer

swallow for their screams

are sorrowfully stuck in their throats

ive shared your despair

there are hairline scars on my wrists

to remind me of my purpose

and if i have to tongue kiss evil

to save you from destruction

glorious daughter i will

give me your story

let my words weep for you

let my stanzas stand for you

let your heart be protected in the pages

i hold to my chest so its rhythm relieves

you from the beatings on your self esteem

it seems that under the sign of Scorpio

the Creator cradled the Pisces moon in His palm

and named me poet

let me

rewrite

the world

for you.

© michele mitchell, 2010, 2014

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/25/daily-prompt-teaching/

photo credit: www.poemfarm.amylv.com

side note: after further research my moon is actually in aquarius, but i did not make the change…pisces sounds better…lol

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