The Light Dressed in Chainmail

by on

My latest Blood into Ink piece.

Blood Into Ink

ph_chainmail_links

In the middle of the night, shadows breathe;

bury your face—bite your pillow when you scream.

Don’t wake the house with your nonsense.

Terrors wear an addict’s face, and smile with her teeth;

ten thousand demons seeded in your soul.

Don’t wake the house with your nonsense.

She was never your mother; and you are not her.

You are the light dressed in chainmail—

the greatest warrior I’ve ever known.

This poem was inspired by my aunt. Aunt Denise’s birth mother had tried to abort her with a coat hanger in 1959, and after her birth, she was adopted by her aunt and uncle, whom I’ve always known as Grandma and Grandpa Carter. My beautiful, fierce aunt lived her life plagued with hatred for the woman who didn’t want her. I hope Aunt Denise is peaceful now. I miss her like mad…

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32 Comments

      1. I am just trying to hold on to what I have
        I had posted this a while back,that I was in a car accident Going on 2 years now but I’m still dealing issues from the accident
        I try to visit you when I can,I’m still writing little a feen and doing art

        Liked by 1 person

        Reply

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