a prayer for ariel-24.08.11

*artwork-“unlocking nine locks” by laura simms via touchdrawing.com

<a style="color: #666666; text-decoration: none;" onclick="window.open('http://touchdrawing.com/conferenceprints-order/','Conference Fine Art Prints','scrollbars=yes,resizable=yes,width=850,height=650,left=100,top='+(screen.availHeight/2-325)+'');return false;" href="http://touchdrawing.com/conferenceprints-order/">UNLOCKING NINE LOCKS Transforming Trauma through Story - Laura Simms 


frozen hand of mercy
squeezes my throat mercilessly
every time he is near.
i failed
he is down
so i am screaming soundlessly
so he won’t hear
so he falls
so he falls
on the soft ground
on the green grass
on someone else’s hands

35 years old child
he did cry twice
when i hugged him close
and he let me touch,
then for the briefest moment,
he showed
and i’ve panicked
and now he is
a tiny shadow of the man he used to be
when he was 20.

i pray for ariel to be back


for my own good-6.01.10

*artwork- view of the exhibition “Powerless Structures” at Tel Aviv Museum of Art


what was i
when was i
one of these …imprisoned on
white islands of metal solitude
on each – imperfect youth
so early broken, nearly left
in it together
so painfully alone.

perverted arc,
“it’s for your own good”,
they said
and others – silent,
was i
tied and shaved,
and waiting…



*artwork- “anguish” by darren johnson via saatchiart.com



between third cup of coffee and unimaginary anguish
i try to escape from my own prison
words echoing in my room
said and unsaid
as i walk around, lost in my own fortress
not recognizing this space,
i am a stranger
to my own thoughts, so familiar, so

i pushed out and away,
and now, left in my beloved solitude
i am full of hatred
that can not find its way to

me or you,
all itchy
i wish to scratch you out
to leave this incapable pale skin
and find a new place
to contain my rusty world of

scared baby with a head shaved
and legs tied to a bed that is everything
scared baby, that waits for a savior to come
in sterile room, with windows ever closed
and smell of lost hope
where every minute is an eternity
and every touch is love deprived



love deprived whore on a days of hecate-15.12.09

*artwork-“don’t take my sunshine away” via tumblr


sometimes i wake up in the mornings and i just know that it is going to be a bad day.



or, filled with dismay and anxiety.

and then everything gets slow.

arthur says these are the days of Hecate. so that i am sensitive during. and, in general, sensitive.

gera calls it “love deprived whore, with her heart locked”. that is also a way to put it.

it’s been a year since i am attending  to myself.


sometimes it seems that i do hear something.

is this how breaking through feels?

today i am restless again. i am not barren, but i can not give birth. there is something inside, yet it is unable to come out.

i am not letting it go.