I am a country under siege.
Invaded from every side.
Bombs, missiles, blast all around.
Structures, collapse at my feet.
I am an infrastructure falling apart.
Dust clogs my pores, stings my eyes.
Horror, pain, live in my domain
distorting views of mother brother
father sister, and who I am is
so alone, chilled to the bone,
veins filled with unforgiving.
How can I hold back this attack,
coming at me everywhere.
I am lost in my own country.
Disappearing into where
wires are blown, shredded,
tangled like knitting wool
taken by the cat and left
in an unholy mess, of never knowing,
which way the thread is going.
Crippled, confused, bleeding from
the so deep, weep from the very
core of who I am, 'cause the hurt
cuts deep into my stillness, my calm.
Breaking my heart, being blown apart.
And I, a roaring lioness -
is maimed.
Re entering the world of psychoanalysis brought me deeper and closer to
cornerstones of my childhood which I could only articulate through writing.
This poem was written after I opened such a door.
A Country Under Siege
Memories of childhood
2004 ©