How even when we whispered it
there was someone shushing
our small mouths
with calloused fingers.
Pressing the words back inside
as if they were Ouranos
horror struck but what we birthed
in those terrible, unspeakable words.
Filling our bellies
with ideas we were not allowed
to give life to.
Until we burst from the ineffable
and held it screaming
before their faces.
Made them look
at what we’d made.
Carol J Forrester 
An outstanding piece!
Thank you Reena.
Reblogged this on Reena Saxena and commented:
Blood always comes with birth… by Carol Forrester
Wow, Carol.
This is absolutely wonderful.
Thank you Dale. I felt really good writing it, which normally means it’s not going to do as well on the blog I’ve found, but it seems to have gone down okay.
I have to tell you it is such a wonderful read. If it doesn’t do well on the blog, I don’t even know what to tell you…
Thank you again. It seems to be doing okay. I was referring more to the fact that when I write poems for the blog, the ones I really love don’t often tend to do as well as the ones I’m less sure about. I seem to have a really backwards judgement of my own work.
I do know what you mean…
And it’s funny because the ones I right that I find “meh” are often ones that get the best comments. I guess I have no idea of what I’m doing 😉
Haha, same!
This is a very powerful piece!
Thank you, I’m glad you think so.