Donald Dristhi


A “Dristhi”, a focal point 
Is a the fifth prerequisite 
On the yogic path towards 
Focal points help us to see the world as it is.
Yesterday, I watched a sea of women 
Swim through the belly of Washington, 
And every other major city across the globe 
The SHE slithered as one, bleeding a trail of pink pussy hats.

So here we are, standing on the cusp of every
pussies in the streets, 
pouring out our menstrual blood 
from the chalice of Fed-The-Fuck-Up, 
ready to barre it all, 
ready to be as naked and as vulnerable as we were the day we left our mother’s womb. 
Donald J. Trump, was pushed or pulled or vacuumed or cut from inside his mother too. And he’s pissed, his wound is a hemorrhaging flood of blood, and we’re all swimming in it now. 
But, we’re paying attention 
And so perhaps, HE, yes HIM
HE is the Holy Sacrifice. 
His blood pain, birth pain, human pain is 
Holding our gaze, and inching us through 
The belly of the snake
Long enough to push us to our knees 
Long enough for demonstrate to become prostrate.  
Long enough to open our mouths, eyes, hearts.
Drink up,
Let the venom be your nectar.
Guest writer, Sarah Hollingsead, 32 years old today, Happy birthday Sarah!

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