[Art and poem by Aurora Pheonix]
It felt like miscarriage.
There was the requisite agony and attendant
gore – absent the maternal oxytocin glow. This being
erupted from her unbidden, extruding through
dry constricted orifices.
It wracked her – a clamped
down silent caterwauling black hole
wrenching her skinside in and curdling
the yolk of the skies.
This thing was a raw bloody
mangled mess, confounding hope of life.
Expecting putrefaction
it squirmed and whimpered
inexplicably birthed in desolate
Siberian confinement.
At the end of all that was known
she bore a poetess self
[Aurora Pheonix is a fledgling writer who is in the process of authoring a new life following a shocking incarceration. She was previously a clinical psychologist and suburban mom. Writing found her in captivity and has been an inescapable conduit to process her experience and reclaim her voice.]
Powerful stuff Aurora!
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Reblogged this on Secret First Draft: A Site of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and commented:
Aurora Phoenix/Whisper and the Roar
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Aw man.
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I so appreciate you reading and taking the time to comment. I am not completely certain how to interpret your comment though?
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The feeling (the feels, I like to call them) is very deep in this piece. I very much enjoyed it. 😊
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Crap, enjoy isn’t the right word for it. 😩
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Trust me, it’s a compliment. 😊
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Thank you so much!
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Thank you Christine!
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