the Poetry of Rebecca R. Pierce
“Dear Mother”
​
You were a doorway I crawled through,
But I wouldn’t call you ‘Mother,’ no.
Every shackle dragged me back to you.
Your chains weighed me down, kept me low.
With metal teeth and metal claws,
You ripped me apart, exposed my flaws.
​
Oh I know why you sliced into me
With cutting words and gutting sarcasm.
You never meant to set me free.
You slid within this bleeding chasm
To hide inside a life you couldn’t fake.
My life, dear Mother, wasn’t yours to take.
​
You were a woman, loud and broken
Screaming for the world to hear her worth
You handed Charon some small token
And sailed upon the boat ride of my birth.
Whatever it was in life that wrecked you,
Know, dear Mother, I’ll never respect you.
​
I was the one who pulled myself through,
Crawling across your splintered floor.
I separated the me from the you.
I birthed myself while you waged war
On the daughter you were meant to praise,
On the daughter you were meant to raise.
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And you raised me all right: you razed me to the ground.
But I endured, dear Mother, every hell
Beat into me, pound for pound.
But I got out and I’m doing quite well.
And though one day, I may forgive you,
It’s only because I learned to outlive you.
“Song of the Sword”
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The King draws me out of my sheath
Not unlike the drawing of breath
And I sing sharply before I sigh
That on this day no man should die
But raise a man up as his knight
That on his shoulders, I alight
A slap to the cheek, and I return
Back to the quiet, for which I yearn.
​
I taste the earth when they wish to pray,
When all hope goes an ashen gray.
I become a crucifix and thus they kneel
The hilt on high, the earth holding steel.
They pray for safety, they pray for peace,
And then their prayers all but cease.
For man is but a restless lot
And quickly tenants are soon forgot.
​
A hand to my blade, an oath given.
A quest–a cause–words that have driven
Men mad–who swears it must be so
And they carry me with them as they go.
There I am, a sword brandished high
To mark a red morning, and men will die!
And all for the sake of one man’s crown,
They’d lift up a crucifix, upside down.
picture courtesy of Pixabay
“The New Cage”
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I twittered nervous as a bird
Nestled in the jaws of a cat.
And you, you tossed me a word
Purring gently this way and that
And told me that the sharp teeth that I felt
Was the new cage and its ivory bars.
How could I listen and not melt,
Nor fill my eyes with twinkling stars?
​
In the end, there was but one feather,
The tell-tale sign we were together.
Was it worth it, was it fun? Very.
At least for the cat that ate the canary.
“Ouroboros”
​
Love is not an aurora borealis,
A pretty and fickle thing
Charged particles colliding
Diffused in a gasp of coloring light,
Seen only when the setting’s right.
​
Love is a phoenix or ouroboros,
Whose fire is life and burns to create,
Whose flaming roar does satiate.
It burns the darkness but does not burn,
Mirroring the Eternal Return.
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Its songs are hymns of thankful prayer,
That body, soul, heart and mind
Resonates with another in kind.
A thousand words melded in a kiss
To bless the God that they exist!
​
Instead we have dragons cramped in its lair
Over their treasured coffers bend,
Counting the coin they’re afraid to spend
Mindlessly twisting about their pelf,
A desolate fear to lose oneself.
​
The loss of one’s self is where Love begins.
The ego is gone, and the joy of giving
Allows the heart to be forgiving.
What is passion without compassion?
How small is Love if it has a ration!
​
For a great Love encompasses even sins,
Greedy it is to take us all in
That not even our flaws should be left out.
Thus ends fear, anger and doubt.
Thus ends words like ‘yours’ and ‘mine’,
But return us all to God Divine.
“I Knew a Woman”
​
I knew a woman, lovely as a tree.
Her skin was polished white like birch,
Her hair ablaze like autumn leaves.
The only thing green was in her eyes,
The last remnant of spring remembering.
Her hardened limbs upheld the sky,
A woman Atlas or Tree of Life.
Her head bent back, her back arched,
And shook when the wind
Went through her careless hair.
It was a shiver down her spine
That drove deep into her roots,
And still she stood her ground.
​
The sun was melting, saying goodbye.
It was only then, in the dark,
When I could not see her eyes
That she looked like a ghost in the graveyard
Standing over the bones
Of what used to be.
“The Gargoyle’s Mouth”
Nightly I stared upon its stony visage.
Its mouth was a maw into hell.
I stood, half-frozen, on the slippery bridge
Waiting—for what—I could not tell.
The cathedral stretched against a dark heaven,
And there, perched on high, near the roof
Was the face of a cherub, whose leaden
Gaze was both judgmental and aloof.
Calling me here again this night
Was this demon with the face of a child.
Transfixed, I stood in the churchyard light.
While the stones rumbled, the demon smiled.
Out of the brick and mortar, it emerged
Clawing its way out and sprouting fangs,
It screeched its unholy cry and surged
Towards me—I ran—The church bell rang.
It knocked me down, we tumbled to the ground,
And graveyard dirt smeared against my tongue.
A familiar flapping of wings had drowned
Out my protest when the last bell was rung.
The demon spoke a truth I knew too well:
“Every sinner must die for their sin.”
I was but a vessel! a carrier! a shell!
So I opened my mouth and let him in.
We dusted off when we stood as one,
A demon with the face of a priest.
“So much work we did, so much left undone...
We’re doing God’s will, at least.”
The lantern in our hand swayed like a knell,
And yes, the blade we gripped was sharp.
Tonight, we'll send another sinner to hell,