The Feminine Crucifixion
poem, poetry Elizabeth Russell poem, poetry Elizabeth Russell

The Feminine Crucifixion

I open my mouth

and I drink of thyself

I am a vessel - fill me

Fill me with thy agony

I’ll kiss away the bloody sweat

I’ll soothe the dried and bloody mat

of hair from off thy Sacred brow

and kiss the lips that suffer now

My eyes are dark, they cannot see

But what else shall there be but thee?

My mind can grasp your presence, Lord.

And that is all I shall gaze toward.

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The Smile
Elizabeth Russell Elizabeth Russell

The Smile

Can a smile change the world? I met a girl once whose entire smile was heaven itself. Can you claim to have ever seen such a smile?

I mean the pure smiles, you know.

So few have the pure smile.

That smile that we think must be a freak of nature, because who could really be that happy? But deep down, in our heart of hearts, we know her smile is pure.

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The Invitational Hand
Elizabeth Russell Elizabeth Russell

The Invitational Hand

Have you ever met the girl with the invitational handt? Her soul flows from her in a joyous stream and when you meet her, I promise that you want to run to her, stretch out your arm, and fill your little cup from her running waters.

She is an abundant soul, consumed with learning how to love, and consumed with giving love away.

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The Peaceful Soul
Elizabeth Russell Elizabeth Russell

The Peaceful Soul

When she enters the room, it is as though a mantle of deep indigo settles into every little nook, with a sigh of peace.

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The Nutcracker
Elizabeth Russell Elizabeth Russell

The Nutcracker

White flakes falling in the silence of the house at night

And the festive lights flickering in the fire’s gracious sight;

A tree in living room bedecked like a royal crown

Shining tinsel in ruby red, with gold it glistens round

the structure of the evergreen, structure ever sound.

The room is ready, ready laid, the hearth is roaring fair,

And merry laughs of Christmasing are joyous, without care.

A sound sounds forth in sparkling song

Of triumph, hark the king who rights all wrongs;

A song that heralds, here comes the first of all the guests,

A song that harks, harks an uncle, him whose loved the best.

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All Wrong
poem, poetry Elizabeth Russell poem, poetry Elizabeth Russell

All Wrong

The world is horrible - it’s all wrong

It is corrupt, and done

It is utterly eaten away from the inside

It is sterilized by shit

It is wiped clean of all that is good

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Borrowing
poem, poetry Elizabeth Russell poem, poetry Elizabeth Russell

Borrowing

Borrowed finery

Borrowed future

How long do I have to wait for you,

wait for the future?

I have borrowed

against the day

When my disguise

will fall away…

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