You secretly binge on my flesh
and say my blood is too bitter.
Terrified by my iron-stitched curves
you pierce nails between my joints.
It's so stamped with pins
and so caressed by sins.
Aren't you afraid that I could rise
from under those sleek dark hours...
which cover my body with doubt and shame?
I am not a forsaken Nariphon tree;
and though long are the nights of seclusion,
and scary are the disheveled dreams
of distant mornings.
But one day I could decide to meet the sun
and grow in mythical forests freely...
not like sweet magical fruits,
not in lively leaves or fragile rinds,
but like a bold dark woman holding ripe bright seeds...
in whichever color and in whichever new skin.
Hopeful poems are ones I love so much. I often do this within my poems where the "bad person" often spoken about abuse, pain, etc is overcome at the end where the author rises up and we see them become a new person, with shedding skin or in this case reborn with new color (I think of yellows like the sun or orange like a Phoenix).
There is such sadness within the first few lines here. This person has swum inside your blood for so long and they are finding it too bitter now, Your curves are where the attacks hurt most, however they have been hurt so much that it doesn't matter much anymore because you built up that strength.
I love how the tables turn in the poem. Instead of the author being afraid, they're healing and it's a testament to how much they survived. By putting the question on the abuser, you make them anxious by showing your strength which is a
Point of view I don't often see in poetry.
It's scary hiding in darkness for so long. But the mentality is there that you could meet the rising sun someday, and when that happens you will become a new version of yourself. A better person.
I love how this poem is built up, it seems like throughout you are getting ready to shed your skin and in the end at least in my mind, you are ready to do so. You don't want to be someone else, you just want to be the best version of you.