"FACINGFACES 2002 - 04" SELECTED POETRY

THE WOMEN

Out of the mist comes a hand
holding a hand holding a hand,
a long chain - mother, daughter,
the women march by, they are
one of the elements, ancient
as the earth and they call to her,
put the sacrificial knife
in her hand.

She's courageous and brave.
The knife is lifted high,
comes down with a sigh,
cuts off lips and clitoris,
an offering to the reigning Phallus.

Deaf and blind,
he condescends to
accept the sacrifice
as a matter of convinience,
unaware of the
abyss
gaping
growing


THE FEMININE CYCLE

Each month with the rising of the full moon
my blood rises in high tide to meet
the perfect orange disc glowing dimly
above the purple shadow of the Golan Heights.
My veins overflow with wrenching, inscrutable
longing, offering the tears of my womb
as sacrifice to the Great Mother.
I bleed my heartaches to the earth
and as a token of her gratitude
she sends me frangrant blossoms to revive
my spirit, and fresh greenery to rebuild
my bones. Her stones use me
as a tuning fork, in an endless
search for the perfect note.



THE TIME I CREATED YOU

Warm and rustly was the time
I created you, daughter.
I was surrounded
by the complacent ones,
celebrating sea and sun, but
an arctic tone, woven into
the wind's hem has already
summoned the summation of summer.

Clear and caressed was the time
I created you, daughter.
I was surrounded
by the unexpecting ones,
who have not been initiated
in the secret of new life
gushing forth in my womb.



Tammara Hayimi Slilat
Israel
copyright 2002