Blessed Bees * last updated June 19, 2000

Chelmno
by Melissa Oringer
(c) Melissa Oringer, 1997-2000, All rights reserved

I have been cleansed
by the hard nut of power
over me.

Naked and tense
did I march to the shower
sensing treachery.

Blows on my head
and it's dark in the tower
of my enemy.

And death painted roses on my cheeks.

Flesh tightly pressed
and I burst into flower,
memory.

Poured into depths
of the earth's own bower
joining family.

I have been drenched
by the tears of my sorrow
grieving, grieving, grieving

Ah, death painted roses on my cheeks.

The rock or the hard place
The root or the rind
The clenching of fists
And the closing of eyes.
Burgeoning grief wells
The song is a cry
The deepening breath
Fills the space
Where there's no room for lies.

We are a lens
for the eyes of tomorrow
measuring sanity.

Mingled, immense,
do we give you the power
of liberty.

And death painted roses on my cheeks.
Death painted roses on my cheeks.
Death painted roses on our cheeks.

(c) Melissa Oringer, 1997-2000, All rights reserved