‘The Butcher’ a first draft poem by S Francis
So broken we begin to reveal our truth
Carved from our hearts like butchers
Take blade to flesh of an animal
Unable to defend itself from our wants
We are that cow, that blade, that cut.
So broken we begin to reveal our truth
In the maroon river of blood carving canyons
Through the weakest parts of our soul, we
Become screen setting where others stop
To look passively out across our setting
Sunscape until having enough they walk
Away. We cannot stop the bleeding.
Until we take this easel and stomp
Upon the cracked shells making dust
Of all that we used to once contain
A being formed by potters whose hands
Did not know of other ways to spin
Clay. This is the other way. This is
The flesh I was given. This is the mold
I am breaking. With each moment
That I now pass by. I consume
The blood I have drawn, I stitch
And tape the flesh and skin I tore
Open to reveal the treasure the
Artist had kept hidden for too long.
(C) 2019 S Francis Fuller
Art Credit: The Young Butcher by Victor Gabriel Gilbert
Fullbeard Lit 
20 Responses to “‘The Butcher’ a first draft poem by S Francis”
“…This is the other way. This is
The flesh I was given. This is the mold
I am breaking. With each moment
That I now pass by…” stilled by such words. Thankyou for this
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahhh… here we go… with this response… I am caught up for the morning…
Thank you for reading and thank you for liking and thank you for the support. I am glad this offered some stillness for you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
sometimes we need to go really deep, very visceral to me
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, sometimes we need to get to those depths… as I suppose sometimes we need to be lighter than air
LikeLiked by 1 person
we are energy so yes I suppose that is true too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Having grown up under an oppressive parent, I completely get that feeling of being molded and created into something we aren’t meant to be. I’ve also broken that mold (mostly) and hope to continue to improve and free myself. Well done!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Breaking the mold, as Eugi says below… is hard… but worth it. Here’s to our mold broken selves!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It really is, but 100% worth it to be true to us! Cheers!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🥂
LikeLike
To look deep within ourselves and determine what is menacing and what is not can be the first step to breaking the mold. Identify the problem, resolve it and pat yourself on the back. Easier said than done, eh!?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Much easier…
LikeLike
“ This is the mold
I am breaking. With each moment
That I now pass by. I consume
The blood I have drawn, I stitch
And tape the flesh and skin I tore
Open to reveal the treasure the
Artist had kept hidden for too long.”
There is such power and violence to the piece, especially in the first few lines. Very effective! Then I love how you repeat the breaking in the last few lines, but with the more gentle, healing notion of “stitching” and “taping”…
Beautiful
LikeLiked by 1 person
I had to chuckle a little… I shared this poem in an daze last night and by the time comments started coming in, I was flattered, but was also like… I need to reread this. I appreciate your thoughts here, I think they help me better understand what I was trying to say.
Although I am still wondering what I meant by screen setting… perhaps a typo? I do look forward to spending some time with this one at some point!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Are we not, each, our harshest critic?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes… with absolute certainty
LikeLiked by 1 person
I had never thought of breaking the mould in gory, visceral terms! And then “stitching” and “taping”… never an easy job, but it must be done! Love the use of repetition.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I actually spent some time working on it on the airplane last night and wrote a couple of companion pieces that I will be publishing over the course of the week.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great! I look forward to read them. 👍🏼
LikeLiked by 1 person
🤓🙌🙌🙌🤓
LikeLiked by 1 person
[…] Fullbeard Lit […]
LikeLiked by 1 person