Skull Hill
written by Jill Dyer (writer, Trauma Narrative Specialist, mother, and dear friend)
Listen here: https://los-cazados.simplecast.com/episodes/skull-hill-by-jill-dyer
I see in my mind’s unruly eye
Mob of humanity, sharks circling kill
Watching skull hill decorated with torture
I taste dirt in teeth, smell acidity of fear
I could not watch you hang by nails
Without fleeing sweat, dripping red life
Soul would writhe until I chose
To climb up, kiss eyelids
To put hands on wounds
To stop flow of blood
Or I would have run horror
Out through legs, tears in torrent
Legs could not run far enough
To escape love proven by stripes
Lashes too many for hands to cover
Too deep for soul to hold
I am left with grit in mouth
Salt in eyes, tin taste in mouth
As weight of love falls hard
Pressing worth into every cell
Wrenching shame from fingertips
I come face to face, breathe to breathe,
Forehead to forehead, lip to lip with
Love.
Day Three
What did resurrection feel like within your skin?
Head pressed hard, three days on rock
Limbs stiff, skin drying taught
Eyes sand paper and rot
Tongue swollen like sea sponge
Corpse empty of energy
Were you pierced with power?
Like wrist pierced with nails?
Where you made new in a moment?
Or did life return leisurely?
Neck twists head
Back and forth
Working out kinks
Working in redemption
Limbs wake tingling
Blood trickles through veins, arteries,
Capillaries, soft tissue.
Blood ran red, spent your life
Now flows crimson to recreate.