THE MADWOMAN OF MEDINA

New Paragraph

strolling through streets

clouds pouring rain in buckets in a range of sizes

her feet voyaging between puddles of water 

mixed mud

her fists rubbing her eyes as she cried 

my skin my skin

she's drowned 

dipping her thumbs into the soppy soil

touching the tips of green index fingers that poke skyward

peeking out from beyond the dewy darkness

reaching toward the faint blue sky

her sight jammed between the fog

she has no name, she's just the madwoman of medina munawara 

ceaselessly shifting between lanes and carpet rows

avoiding the guards that remove people 

she carries a cloth bag full of yellows and blues

paint daubs and splatter stain her clothes 

a pallette lives beneath her fingernails

she's seen the devil 

she can see him despite his efforts 

she can see him in his every form

she was cursed with this blessing

the one that struck her 

taught her

came in camo 

dressed as a pious old woman

she visited this devil over and over 

ever since she was seven 

the devil would pray and direct her

tell her in order to reach the peak 

she would be required to leave herself behind

all that soil mixed with water is mud 

it's dirt and a shroud most unbecoming 

the devil would say hands cupped facing the sky

cut off from it all so you can fly

the devils whisper echoed inside saying your spirit requires it

meet your creator, separate from it

and as the madwoman grew and years went by

like the cloud sending rain from the sky

that voice turned and churned a toxic butter inside

stuck in between her arteries

when she was sad the pious looking devil woman would return 

it was her voice that would hold her hand and walk with her 

to the beach, to see the sunrise and then scoff at her body 

mud shaped in pear form

and even after the devil left, the whisper would remain within her

it would say desecrate it

in the beginning she would be direct, some fight still left within her

are you telling me to vandalize me?

and the pious old woman would shake her head and frown, 

her gloved hand covering her mouth

with time her arteries froze, she weakened, then it came 

she burned her own skin

tattooed ink into her skin, so far in fact the needle scraped her bones

and she allowed anyone to waste it

to tear it, and within her that voice would say 

keep going 

soon it will unveil you and your spirit

the devil worked her so well she was digging her spirit a grave 

punching away at her heart

growing further and further away from it 

layering every veil of light she once had with cuts and wounds

an infected cover

and so she set out since the age of seven 

to battle and take on this war against herself

the devil sold her her very own dream, inverted

and lost in the slow churn of the chemical that was thickening within her veins

she worked hard to cause this body of hers pain

the ugly needless weighty thing that kept her soul chained

the devil said

This clenching this clenching

she clenches her teeth her shoulders ache

her neck 

she can hear cracks like tiny quakes

her spirit fears that she might just sever the relationship

between this face and its face

between this pumping heart

and her nest, the womb inside her that holds newly formed bodies

who will enter through the seascape

and so now to ensure she stays awake

she soothes herself, a vessel filled over many decades with fear

she has returned to herself, gone back to mix paint

all she wants is to create the colour of that most magnificent green dome

to learn to love her parts 

what is within her, the duality, spirit and form