Sawhein Poetry
It was all great and empowering.
The shadowy place. Ah, we did it.
We finished all the magic.
And then, the villain appears.
They thought the story was done,
and that the baby had her blessing.
But with it came the other wise woman.
The 13th one that everyone wished would stay home.
It wasn’t her ego. Or her arrogance.
Her body dysmorphia. Her mental illness.
Her trauma. Her greed. Her fears and anxieties.
It wasn’t that. Anything but that.
But then again there it is, the shadow cloaked by material form and that’s this.
This eyeball. That’s gazing.
La Catrina screams from behind a black flame.
She still wants to have sex.
And eat humans.
And snakes.
And drink the warm blood until her eyes
Become glazed in white
And her teeth turn black
Until she can invoke
The ancient powers.
She wont be quenched
Until her face splits into
The power of three
Until her eyes become fixated
On Jupiter
And then close to focus on the dark.
It’s an apple covered in oil
Placed on the doorstep.
Which isn’t evil.
Will you eat it?
Is it healthy?
Is it poison?
Is it perfect?
What is this sphere she holds?
Such a mystery, this dark and mal ofted curse.
This guise which then leads to another
Until the cemetery becomes masked
In marigold red
Until she’s sitting on a throne.
Until she’s basking in the moon.
And soaking in the pool
While listening to leaves
Her eye is a sunlit orb
that only alights when the sun has set
As we walk into the west hand in hand
With parted mother and father in perfect harmony
Diana in gold, her hound by her side tied to the same warm heart.
two sisters, tied to the same warm womb.
The grandmother who cries for her mother
In quiet moments as her mother’s mother
Cries her tears of relief.
For the golden locks of a sleeping beauty
Who hasn’t yet seen the harshness of the world
A painful reminder of what happens
When the young feminine is covered in rosaries and death
And sugar skulls stolen from Mictecacihuatl
Her dreams returned to the bottom of the oldest tree.
And that tree is the only ancestor
Who can see the breasts on the mountain
And the buried rocket fuel/
—Halloween Night
Martinez
Emily Ra
2022
