Christine E. Ray's Blog, page 9

Obsession #1

me
unable to stop
thinking about
you
the one
I couldn’t have
push-me
pull-you
come closer
go away
me
always off-balance
you
one minute cold
the next tender
such an elaborate dance
which of us
was leading?
me
always wanting
you
always inscrutable
was I just a friend?
a challenge?
did you just
want to get laid?
I longed
to climb
into your skin
wrap myself
around your heart
fuse onto your soul
ease that haunted look
in your eyes
be the one
you couldn’t
breathe without
maybe you were wise
to keep the distance
me
endless need
you
my weapon
of self-destruction

© 2017 Revised 2024 Christine E. Ray – All Rights Reserved

Pinprick of Loss

the loss of you

punctured the night sky

like tiny pinpricks on a black canvas

covering the moon from view

allowing only the smallest rays

of cool silver light

to feather touch

my pale lips

my empty hands

© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

Bad Feminist

when I only kissed girls
I was accused of being a man-hater
when I could braid the hair under my arms
broke disposable razors on my legs
I was called earthy-crunchy
when I decided to major in women studies
I became a bra burner
when I interrupted men
demanded my turn
I was a bitch
when I cared about gay men
contracting HIV
and dying of AIDS
I was told I had been co-opted
when I didn’t laugh at
sexist/homophobic/racist/antisemitic jokes
they called me a killjoy
when I insisted on being inter-sectional
I was labeled a radical
when I fell in love with a man
I was marked a traitor
when I married him and had children
I was a sellout
when I insisted that we did not live
in a post-feminist world
I was called a dinosaur
when I started to speak truth about
rape, sexual abuse, and harassment
I was told I was playing the victim card
when I turned 50
I was considered obsolete
I am not made
for standing on pedestals
you will not find me
cast in bronze as
an exemplar of feminist
wisdom and ideology
I will be in the wings
tripping over my soapboxes
dented megaphone
in my hand

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

Chained

silken strands
and finely spun
steel
compose the
knotted memory
that holds you
fast and taut
close to
my heart
despite
gentle tugs
and pulls
they stubbornly
refuse to
relax their grip
each moment
we shared
a hand-tied pearl
in a necklace
of silver thorns
and longing

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

Saffron and Chestnuts

I pity you
you, with your
narrow definitions
of beauty
constrained
by the notion
that a woman
must be a
walking
talking
Barbie doll
petite
blue eyed
blonde curls bouncing
to earn a place on your arm
you are blind
to how sexy
her strong is
her throaty laugh
that gorgeous brain
her wicked sense of humor
you don’t know
how delicious
her saffron lips taste
the way her eyes sparkle
when she wraps her arms
around my neck
calls me ‘baby’

© 2018 Revised 2024 Christine E. Ray – All Rights Reserved

Eulogy for the Fairy Princess

your words

of sacred poetry

take me back

to the time

before I was broken

before I was rendered

collateral damage

to the war fought

over this body

you wrap me

in a cloak

of subtly

woven language

sing a eulogy

to my

innocence lost

evoke memories of

my heart whole

soul pure

hope

trust intact

this re-membering

of unsullied past

is as mythical

as Santa Clause

unicorns

but you create

a shape of me

in words

so beautiful

so powerful

with such sincerity

that even I 

can see

shimmering outline

of the girl

I used to be

©2017 Revised ©2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

Prayer for the Dead – Christine E. Ray

my heart
dresses in
black lace
when I slide beads slowly
through practiced hands
their surfaces warm
worn smooth
against calloused
fingertips
it is the tender tissue
of my throat
that stings
as I murmur
their names
one by one
in order of loss
head bowed low
in the candlelight
no omissions are allowed
or I must return
to the beginning
start again
the ritual must be
performed perfectly
at the alter
of my dead

© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

The Bluest Eyes

ivory-hued dolls
with wavy golden locks
lovingly combed
and styled
sat carefully along
the bedroom shelf
their piercing blue eyes
painted open
in horror
their mouths forming
silent O’s
of unheard screams
no protection
no comfort
can they offer
these porcelain witnesses
of the injustices
inflicted upon
her young brown body
by a racist society
by boys
and men
she knew
she trusted
her world
her skin
her psyche
shattered
by such
callous
disregard
unable to bear
their unblinking knowing
any longer
she turns each doll
so they face
the wall
and begins to slowly
painstakingly
sew herself
back together

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

The Neverending Story

a woman speaks
into the void
tries to impart
necessary truth
that actions proposed
will harm the vulnerable
increase suffering
for those who already
know it
too well
but she is drowned out
shouted down
by furious men
in sharply tailored suits
who insist that
what they have to say
is more valid
more important
more worthy
that what she has to say
when called on their
disrespectful outburst
the men state
that they were
misunderstood
mischaracterized
‘this would never
have happened’
they retort
‘if others had
had simply obeyed
the RULES’

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

Image courtesy of the Philadelphia Inquirer

Where the Mountain Meets the Moon

where the mountain
meets the moon
I shall stand
arms raised
in supplication
naked face lifted high
to be washed pure
by her silver glow
light shall
fill me
radiate out
from my deepest core
I will love
and be
beloved
embrace peace
and let it spill
from my soul
welcome myself
joyously
without judgment
and finally
become whole
where the mountain
meets the moon

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved