It's 3:00 a.m, the time which used to be communion with the spirits and receiving of divine information. Oh that glorious witching hour has become the time of consumption. For as I feed my child the demons creep into my mind. Society, media, those not in the know but with the upper hand seem to have a grip with sharp teeth on my brain. I will not them them rule, I sleep with one eye open, and dear child of mine you must too. If only they knew that with my breast bared I nourish not only your soul but the worlds, they cannot shake my Motherhood.
hand up always in protest
they will not devour
over ruled with kindness & flower power
Prompt from Dark Poetry For The Cruellest Month 2016
"Let's Haibun Her a Tale" inspired by Shelle Kennedy's "Madonna of the Flowers"