To My Creator

The little zygotic parasite
under the dome of flesh
feeds and floats
stretches and grows

Patient and forbearing
anticipation tearing
the well preserved vessel
into pieces, into parts
until what she used to be
is no more

Emerging above
from the valley of love
blind and wailing
feeble and aching
in the arms
of God

To my creator
who let me spring
from a tiny seed into a being
breathed her soul
until a life sparked within

To my begetter
who thrust me out
gently but firmly
lovingly but resolutely
into the jarring world

To my nurturer
whose bosoms I tore
until broken and sore
gnawed and sucked
with my toothless gums
suckling the life flow

To my precious inventor
who sculpted me bit by bit
her own tissue and bones
scooping her very own pith
and planting it at my core
whose blood I drank
now runs in my veins

There is none other of course!
not the one sitting in the heavens
not the one sitting at the altar
there is none other
there cannot be
other than my own 
precious mother

(image by AngelaSasser @deviant art )

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Yoshay Lama

I welcome you warmly to my blog. This is the resting place of most of my creative work. This blog consists of book reviews, articles, poems, mere reflections and excerpts from my stories.

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