To percolate or to just write

I am having some difficulty with my muse. I came across a poem that I wrote several years ago after a father here in Canada had committed an honor killing. And my brain has begun to piece together a poem or a story about women who have been abused by religious tenets.

So my muse is percolating. Trying to figure out how to write what I want to write. How to focus on my anger and fear. How to portray women who have been ruled by religion for 1000’s of years.

There has always been the condemnation of witchcraft, that is an easy one to fall back on. The bible is used to beat women into submission. I am sure the Koran is put to the same use. But what about the subliminal message that we receive. Today still, in 2017 that somehow it is our fault, how we dress, speak, smile, all is an excuse used.

I have a story or a poem within me. I am not sure why I feel the need to write about this at this moment. I have not read anything that would have been a trigger. I have not seen anything that has been a trigger. All I know is my muse is chewing her lip and tugging on her hair as the idea moves into being. It will be complete and utter fiction I can tell you that. I am just not sure when it will be written or published for your consumption.

The Poem that started this all when I reread it:

Honor Killing

I read that another girl died today

her father took her life

‘The shame, the shame’ he laments

‘she can no longer be a wife.’

Bound in an alley, filth in her face

abused, debased, left shivering

Afraid to move, afraid to cry out

she knows what she will face,

she knows that more is to come.

Allah’s tears cleanse her heart

Allah’s tears cleanse her soul

Allah’s embrace heals her hurts

Allah’s love shows her the truth.

The shame decried is his alone

the hatred burns his soul

No justification, no regrets

Saving one’s name, that is more important.

I read that another girl died today

her father so proud of the deed

Posturing, holding his head high

fierce in protest, in rejection of fear

no longer is he able to feel Allah’s grace.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

December 1/11

 

 

 

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Author: Jay-lyn Doerksen

I am a single hard working mom in her early 40's. I have always written poetry and I love words. A self confessed obsessive book worm I live for my son and my down time to read. I have a vast array of friends and cohorts who I will be writing about. I hope I can make people laugh or cry; be thoughtful and understanding. And I need to write so this will be my voice.

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