Terza rima poetry by Athena Melliar
I Am
A Metamorphic Danse du Ventre
I am an evergreen womb.
I flume a plume of red dust as I dance
on a sand dune. The wind tries to exhume
hums from my mouth, passing through my foot stance
and whistling through the curves of my body;
I vibrate in squall swerves, round myself prance.
I birth a human of worth, embody
a new self. Silver spangles are wind chimes.
The first veil’s cover wanes; it is bloody.
The sexual assaults, in school’s confines,
were miscalled "incidents". And I, appalled
to utter "Why?", I silenced all the times.
Mirror reflections cry "Mine’s
the pride I hauled up from the well. Shush now."
As one veil falls down, one sin is absolved.
I should have stopped this earlier. Bullied
by my friends I remained. I was abhorred.
How greedy I was!
I adored feeling accepted.
I flexed my midriff, held my breath, bellied
out. My movement is fluid like a fight
against those who lust after a sullied
self-trust of mine. It must be quite a sight
for them to see themselves share an earth with
women who feel in their own skin all right.
My movement is percussive, a wild frith.
I envied father’s phlegm in uncle’s tries
to violate my boundaries. Τhe fifth
sin is rooted in this. I didn’t despise
them. I felt numb. I chose not to succumb
to my feelings at all, not to cut ties.
Once I had tried a loud laugh, it kept mum,
felt unworthy. With honors I entomb
my once self. I waited, now I become.
A Metamorphic Danse du Ventre
I am an evergreen womb.
I flume a plume of red dust as I dance
on a sand dune. The wind tries to exhume
hums from my mouth, passing through my foot stance
and whistling through the curves of my body;
I vibrate in squall swerves, round myself prance.
I birth a human of worth, embody
a new self. Silver spangles are wind chimes.
The first veil’s cover wanes; it is bloody.
The sexual assaults, in school’s confines,
were miscalled "incidents". And I, appalled
to utter "Why?", I silenced all the times.
Mirror reflections cry "Mine’s
the pride I hauled up from the well. Shush now."
As one veil falls down, one sin is absolved.
I should have stopped this earlier. Bullied
by my friends I remained. I was abhorred.
How greedy I was!
I adored feeling accepted.
I flexed my midriff, held my breath, bellied
out. My movement is fluid like a fight
against those who lust after a sullied
self-trust of mine. It must be quite a sight
for them to see themselves share an earth with
women who feel in their own skin all right.
My movement is percussive, a wild frith.
I envied father’s phlegm in uncle’s tries
to violate my boundaries. Τhe fifth
sin is rooted in this. I didn’t despise
them. I felt numb. I chose not to succumb
to my feelings at all, not to cut ties.
Once I had tried a loud laugh, it kept mum,
felt unworthy. With honors I entomb
my once self. I waited, now I become.
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Athena Melliar is a freelance poet, writer and essayist. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Literary Magazines and journals (The Light Ekphrastic, The Mystic Blue Review, Frear, Stachtes) and newspapers in Greece, Cyprus, Egypt and England (Pontos News, OffsiteCy, Hellenic Community of Alexandria). She is an UNESCO award winning short story writer. She holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Humanities and is bilingual in English and Greek. Twitter: @AthenaMelliar
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