My Salvation

16 Jun 2000

Is it this pen, this ink, this outpouring
that kept sanity clutched tight
and fought the good fight
‘gainst that seductive escape
that might have torm my mind asunder?
Wrapped tight in anguish’s fist
clenched in abuse,
was it this that held my hand
from seeking the apathy of death
that I spoke so freely of?
Elusive happiness found no sway
in this harméd heart
for I found it a stranger companion
than the life I knew.
Which blame do I place 
upon absent mother, lover-brother or lusting father
or upon this self?
Seductive child, yearning the love
learning too well the lust
that crept into each male eye
until I could distinguish it not
from the other.
This gift of insanity
that I might have embraced, 
given by unstable mother
and sexual teachings,
I have refused.
These words, 
my salvation.


© 2000, Tara Tambolleo