Stepping out of my comfort zone and onto a path less traveled. Poetry, a contest, and a surprisingly personal spot of writing.
The Offering
Hollow gourd.
Barren supplicant.
Ropes of pulp,
Stringy and sodden.
Bold stench.
The odor of earth,
moss-like, moldy.
Dull and sweet.
The cycle of yearning.
Hope.
Despair.
No Harvest this year.
Arms outstretched,
Muscles strain.
Salty, sharp sweat.
The offering made.
Wow. Just wow. Thank you for this absolutely stunning, powerful expression of yourself. I'm sorry for your struggle that so many women can relate to (unless I'm misinterpreting), but I am so inspired by you sharing it