DNA: Blood Lets Blood
Trial by fire is merely being born:
The womb, the smithy
Of conception forlorn.
Blood from childbirth,
From prick of a finger,
From bullet wounds,
From child’s play,
From a nosebleed of linger;
From perilous transfusion,
Bedsores of the old,
Accidents,
Mutilations,
Surgery done cold;
From the black,
The Caucasian,
The Muslim,
The Greek,
From the genius,
The idiot,
The beauty,
The geek;
From the monkey,
The dolphin,
The house dog and cat,
The allegorical dove,
The fink and the rat.
The code is the same:
Life in its spiral,
At once up and down,
At once pure and viral.
Every day,
Every hour,
Every minute and moment,
We bloodlet our proof of the pattern we foment.
We fuel the fire,
We bleed to live,
We boil our own plasma so the helix will give.
And while outwardly wielding our double-edged swords,
We umbilically strangle on internal cords.
With sado-masochistic inveteracy and trance,
We sacrifice back to the spiraling dance.
No ashes remaining,
No comfort to flesh,
Just the ongoing helix enriching its mesh.
– Mary Jo Magar –