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  • Writer's pictureRAG

Blood Red and Bleeding Out

And Again We Mourn

Blood red and bleeding out, beaten and bruised

Bashed in and worked over

Scarred, scorn

Slashed, lashed and maimed

There He was hung high


On the tree

Like strange

Hanging fruit

We look to You for truth

For light

You would understand Our plight

What it means to hang, to die

For something we did not do

And why

Is there still no justice in the world?

For bodies of bronze

Dripping red

Flooding the streets

Our homes?

Our beds?

Places of rest

Of worship

And praise

We still aren’t safe.

Hunted down and picked off one by one

Young, old

Man, woman

We are all fair game.

The skin the target

Locked in their sights.

We look to You

For peace

For light.


You will bleed.

It is inevitable.

It is fact.

You were born with pain in your womb.

You were born with burden.

You were given life

To give life

To give of yourself.

To bless.

And therefore

You will be despised.

Because you will bleed

You will be despised.

Because you carry purpose

You carry compassion

You carry love

You will be despised.

You will bleed.

Blessed blood.

Sacred blood.


But essential.

Few can handle the burden

Of your purpose.

But you can.

Remain soft.

Don't be afraid.

When the blood


I wonder what would happen if

I reached into my chest

Felt around

And grabbed hold of my heat.

Would it struggle?

Would it fight?

If I tried to pull it from its cage

Would it relent?

Once freed

Would it still beat?

Would it look back at me?

Could it weep?

How would it feel?



Would it bleed out?

Spilling my secrets, fears, doubts?

Could it love me

If it were no longer part of me?

Would it feel me?

And its color

Would it stain my hands a rich crimson?

Or oily black.



Could I use it to paint...or draw?

Could my heart be used

To express what I had hidden in it?

Would it let me open it?

Sensitive to my touch

Would it fall open, presenting what's inside

Or lock up

Fight me?

Would I have to pry it open?

Would I be strong enough to struggle?

Would it slip from my hands?

Would it hold still?

Would I have to finally,

Cut it open?

Make it submit

Make it tell me all there is

To know

Make it spill out?

Or would it shout

In pain




Is my heart protecting these things?

Am I protecting my heart?

Or locking it away?

For fear that my questions may get answered.

#poetry #floetry #women #pain #blood #life #mourning #ragart #rag #blog #writing

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