Putting Myself Out There...
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Putting Myself Out There...

This is a discussion on Putting Myself Out There... within the Depression Poetry forums, part of the Feeding the Fire category; Bare foot on bare rock. Blood spilt from my feet, but I couldn’t feel it; my feet were frozen. I ...

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Old 12-15-09, 12:31 AM   #1
 
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Bare foot on bare rock. Blood spilt from my feet, but I couldn’t feel it; my feet were frozen. I didn’t know how long I was running, but I knew it was a long time. Snow covered bush. Trees covered snow. And sky covered tree. A blanket of crisp, frozen air. My lungs burned from sprinting, my throat screamed for air. My sweat froze among surfacing from my pores. Winter was colder then ever I could remember, and I was certainly under dressed. My white nighty was no match for the December weather. I shivered, vigorously. Sharp, sudden, involuntary movements of my chest and jaw forced me to my knees. Only then did I feel my wounds.
My feet were skinless, my knees freshly gutted. My nose was bleeding. My transparent clothing was already soaked in red. I looked around, disoriented, and began to cry. My tears froze before they reached my chin. I stood up with my remaining strength, and saw birch tree among birch tree to the North and South. I reached into the left pocket of my nighty, and pulled out my only belonging. My scissors. The metal was cold, and froze to my palms which clenched tightly around them. I threw them to the ground. By now, my nose had froze itself over. I could fell the blood plastered all over my face and hair. My nighty was as red as wine.
I pulled the rag over my head, to expose only skin. I was Eve of the woods. I hung the intricate dress over a branch, and picked up my scissors.
I ran forever.
It felt like morning would come any second, but it never did.
And so I kept running. My shins were caked with blood, my feet were shredded, my legs were tired, and eventually, I found a clearing. The treeless expanse exposed millions of stars. Billions, upon trillions of stars. The moon was nowhere to be seen, and I figured it was to late for it to still be out. I collapsed upon snow, and rolled over onto my back.
I wasn’t surprised that all the animals were missing. Only just two weeks ago I saw a chipmunk gathering the oak’s remnants. I wish I could sleep among the bears, even with the longer nights, my eyes were baggy and swollen. I released my fingers grasp around metal, reached for the scissors with my right hand, and sat up. I examined them for a long time, opening and closing them swiftly, to hear the sweet sound of kissing blades. I raised my left hand, and pulled on a long lock of hair. Bloody, and frozen, I cut through it in one swift movement. I held it in my hand, enough hair to clothe a squirrel; I dropped it to the frozen ground. I continued, without hesitation. My hair was surely only a phew inches long by now, maybe three in the back.
For the first time in my entire life, I felt beautiful.
I cried for a long time.
“Ani couni chaouani,” I whispered. “Ani couni chaouani. Awawa bikana caďna. Awawa bikana caďna. E aouni bissini. E aouni bissini1”
I said it again, louder. And again, I sang. And louder. And I cried and I sang and I yelled.
And I sang it as I lifted up my dull weapon, and stabbed my right breast. And I sang it as I stabbed my left. And I tore away at my beautiful chest for what felt like hours.
“Awawa bikana caďna. E aouni bissini,” I sang, “E aouni bissini.”
Blood pooled around me, and melted the snow. My body was red.

If only Mama could have seen how beautiful I looked as a boy.
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Old 12-16-09, 09:34 PM   #2
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so passionate...i share your sorrows, i truely hope you can find some solace in this life
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