Invasion of Sanctity

To those who don't have the luxury of a safe place anymore...


3.30.04/4.21.04/5.7.04
There was a time, this house was a haven.
In the corner by the bookshelf,
on my big fluffy reclining chair,
I spent hours concocting
fantasies of rebellious desire.
Mornings in the shower,
or evenings in the bath,
I soaked in salts and songs of tranquility;
they sound quite different
in the light of day.

When the sun scalds and the moon can't
be revealed, behind all the shadows
you've left on my skin.
You, who forever stays like an unspeakable stain,
You just won't let me be; even though you've been liberated.
My desire is rebelling, as my body rejects
the very presence of you, in the essence of me.

The very place, my native land
now steeped in hell, with burning sand.
Where my child was born and died
my flesh deflated and no end in sight.
No sanctity, no trust, no end
all shame.
My flesh is bare, my heart is maimed.
The warmth of its refuge
has turned deadly cold.
My tender self
my heart made of stone.


Author's Comments:
"I wrote this with a very specific event/theme in mind, but readers showed other creative perspectives that I never thought of. I've appreciated all of them and they gave me new insight toward editting and shaping what this poem is today...."