Resurrection     by Eileen Rosensteel 


~ by Eileen Rosensteel
I plucked out my wing feathers-they said I belonged on the ground.

I stopped dancing and singing-they said I had no rhythm.

I silenced myself-no one was listening.

I stitched my eyes shut-So I didn’t have to see what was happening.

I dug my own grave and lay in it-So I didn’t have to feel the pain.

So I could be at peace

In the emptiness.

There in the pit

I found my bones

In the marrow of my bones

There was strength

In the pulsing of my blood

There was rage

In my flesh-Desire

I clawed my way out of that grave

Using my strength, rage and desire.

Carefully I cut away the stitches

To see the truth

I whispered my words to myself

I started to sway and hum

To my own music

Now I am gathering feathers

Indeed , the critique that begins in unknowing or knowing 

the non acceptance in a society lately unaware , or not 

want to be involved has many detached , and at some point 

hopefully armored with “tools” , faith , goals and support , 

we rise and reclaim all the precious  , forgive and love self

dispite all challenges .


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s