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Umbilicus Severed

Each of us is an infant seized In the moment of labor spent. We each are Samson, stained, restrained, Chained between the pillars that confine us. The womb of the mother god, Wisdom, She holding us back from our awakening, But we press outward, downward, But we force, our desire to emerge,, To be free of our old abode, The hold of another's will, The hold of another's thoughts, To be free to become more--or less, To be free of the cord that binds us, That cord Umbilicus that makes us a part of Her, Our breath her breath, Our blood her blood, Our life her life. To be severed from the She that finds us Being disgorged between her thighs, The holy pillars through which all life Must pass. To leave the holy sanctum At last. To see with our own eyes, To hear with our own ears, To utter our own sounds, Knowing this: That there is no going back.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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Date: 10/17/2018 3:05:00 PM
Well-written, and deeply provocative. You are right. There is no going back. Welcome to PoetrySoup, James!
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James Fitz-Gerald
Date: 10/17/2018 6:03:00 PM
Thank you for your review, Ms. Krutsinger. I've written poems for years and look forward to receiving critiques on what I write or have written while I'm looking for the 'sparks' of the next wave of great minds.