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Stitch me up


Author: Linzi
ASL Info:    24.f.wales
Elite Ratio:    5.91 - 80 /100 /94
Words: 273
Class/Type: Poetry /Dark
Total Views: 1419
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 2049



Description:


Just to clarify a cot is a term for crib


Stitch me up



Stitch me up
like the thread of my childhood
in the patch-work quilt
that shapes our lives.
Four blunt corners…
Four blank walls.

An empty crib,
echoing sobs and laughter
barricading
time
and ghostly innocence.
Demonic innocence,
the story of death and the maiden babe.
Cot death?
Cot suicide!
Cot crumbing from social forces,
held together by police tape.

Next is the school gates,
black as the plague
against grey skies.
Framing a winter face,
in the murky depths
of the window.
The world beyond
my first life,
my safe life.
The world of me and you.

That gap is when I lost you
first.
I shredded the quilt
like a snake-skin.
I out grew it,
I out grew you.

That was when,
you drew your thread, then,
from my web of words.
The ink
that painted
white rabbits black,
and wrung the clouds
of wonderland.

That flood…
it turns sticky hands limp,
and gushes
through the gates
in ecstasy.
Leaks like rain
through a drain pipe.
A child’s tears when
the sunshine came,
but shall never come again.

Now I am sitting
in the waiting room,
cooing through bars
that contain you
and your sounds
of sobbing,
laughter.
A ghost in the darkness
the face through the cot,
my cot,
your cot now.
A cot guarded by police men,
doctors,
paramedics.
Silence broken by sirens.

I am drawing
my thread
from my ragdoll wrists,
to stitch us back together.
I must work
our patchwork life …
Mothers’ turn to babes.
From womb to tomb,
Or tomb to womb
together
we’ll escape.




Submitted on 2013-01-11 15:29:02     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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Comments


  This was very touching. Cuts life a knife to the core with its bluntness. Makes me imagine the harmonious relationships between mother and child in her womb. How peaceful, innocent, and happy life is in there. And once the child is born, it is hard to keep this innocence for too long. Children grow so fast and shed that skin of child-like wonder and love. Their skin hardens through experiences, peer pressure, school systems, every day life and work. And this magical relationship once held so dear by two is no more over time and space. But the child ever wonders, when inebriated, if it is possible to return, to stitch it all back together.

It is very tragic when people take each other for granted. This poem helps us realize we should make amends before it is too late, and better yet develop a relationship that always grows and flourishes so that one needs not make amends. Thank you so much for this. This will linger with me for ever.
| Posted on 2015-02-02 00:00:00 | by wordsofmind | [ Reply to This ]
  I really enjoyed this. Brought back a lot of images from this movie :D http://youtu.be/oqk0qLZgxwQ
| Posted on 2013-01-13 00:00:00 | by Paradox | [ Reply to This ]
  So much to like here, a story to piece together: dark overtones of sadness mingled with some hope perhaps.

This is excellent:

I am drawing
my thread
from my rag doll wrists,
to stitch us back together

and I like this especially well too:

you drew your thread, then,
from my web of words.
The ink
that painted
white rabbits black,
and wrung the clouds
of wonderland.

I don't understand this:

and ghostly innocence.
Demonic innocence,
the story of death and the maiden babe.

There's a fair bit of explanation going on that I'm not sure really adds to the piece, in that it has a powerful sense of meaning already with out some of those bits.

much enjoyed. thanks.
| Posted on 2013-01-13 00:00:00 | by timepet | [ Reply to This ]


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