Trinity – a poem by Cynthia Pitman


i. Immersion

Water breaks,
pulls me down
to a cold, murky world
hidden beneath the sunlit foam.
I open my eyes.
Yellow, green, black:
sinuous forms
ominous forms
dancing their slow-motion death-dance.
They reach for me.
(I reach for them?)

Someone from above
pulls me up.
(No! Wait! Not yet!)
I cough,
suck the air,
close my eyes
and begin to cry.


white robe
flowing white around me
washed white
washed white in the blood
washed white
in the blood of The Father
washed white
in the blood of The Ghost
Holy blood.
Baptismal blood.

iii. Resurrection

Water breaks,
splits me apart,
twists me inside out,
bends Me into Two.
Blood, water, flesh
flow together:
a distorted image
in the mirrored orb.
My son
(ghost of my father)
My son
(born again)
My son
(washed in the blood)
sucks the air,
opens his eyes,
and begins to cry.

Cynthia Pitman has had poetry published in Literary Yard and Right Hand Pointing. The title of the RHP issue, The White Room, was from her poem, and the artwork was designed around it. She has poetry forthcoming in Postcard Poems and Prose, and a short story forthcoming in Saw Palm: Florida Literature and Art.


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