Daughter of the Son of Blood

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Wanting the want

awaiting glue

fixing nothing

to be fixed.

Broken never Broken

stolen losing focus

pressed upon me:

The Past Everlasting

saline blasting

hearts smashing

mine from behind,

breaking knives

inside my insides

torn intestines

splitting jagged veins

blood stains:

what happened

back there,

that library of pain

walled before

I could read;

locked before

I was able to see

reality

of which there Is

One.  Locked bleeding.

reality of which

there is none.

Walls stained scarlet-red

I remember

inside always December

dead without buds

dying without love

a life left behind,

my youth not mine.

Now they smile at me,

“disabled”

I am–

–to them

my blood they are

by blood they bled

I bleed their blood.

Should’ve been a son

I’d have seen the Sun.

Ayesha Gill, Copyright 2012

Published by Sine Pari Poet

In Arabic, Ayesha means Life--I am Woman--of Poetry, Poetic Prose, Photography, and the Creation of All of My Dreams, all of which end in Artistry. I have often been referred to as Enigmatic and Magnetic, but also Selfless ("to a fault"). Some call me an "m-path" because I am highly compassionate. I sincerely hope that you enjoy all that I have to offer. Thank you for taking the time to Read Me. I am Proud. I am Ayesha. With Love, Ayesha R. Gill عايشة رامازاً جل

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