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| Maliz Ong |
I have a secret poem...
I have a secret poem – honed as bladed razors -
opening a throat thirsty for vindication of another.
I have a secret poem – that bangs in a bronze tomb -
sealed in sisterhood in the epi-center of my soul -
beating against walls - a sour fetid storm raging
against its confines awakening a sleeping beast
that roars in righteousness – raging in alarming
alacrity – blinded to any possibility of another -
point of view in the heinous horror against a mother
I have a secret poem in me–risen writ with wet finger-
tips – dipped in the blood-libel soul-searing egregious
intention to obliterate – perhaps it all began with
gossip or misunderstanding now blown to nuclear
defense of the indefensible – ongoing pummels
attempting to pulp a mother-poet to oblivion –
I have a secret poem – of wrath waiting to be un-
leashed that need never be written - for though
the mother-poet can now bathe in the salted depth
of her tears. – she needs no champion - continuing
to get to her feet shake the vertigo of visciousness
and write on – with love and the light without end
I have a secret poem that will be revised from rage
to respect – from anguish to awe -
I have a secret poem taken from its lockbox shredded
and released to the winds of change to come -
eventually ...
