Marcia Babler Fine Art and Design
©marciababler.com
Journey to Healing
A two-year process. An Artist and a Poet.
Addressing emotions and healing through their respective mediums. The result - a Creative Collaboration called the Journey to Healing.
Seizure
The eyes have disappeared
behind the patterns.
The mouth is where the madness
begins to show itself.
The body riddles its way
into the night.
When it’s finally over,
listen to the choir of cells
rejoicing inside you,
loving you in your most
imperfect form.
Just Talk
Apocalypse Body
The glass in the airway.
The microplastics
in the waterway.
The choked green of the grass
and the fiberglass of the sky.
When you get closer,
the glittering things
become sinister,
but it’s too late to look away.
Judged
Gut Madness
They say that emotional pain
resides in the pelvis.
You think about the bad things
that metastasize,
the way our second brain
transforms nutrients
into a psychological soup.
You wonder if we’ll ever
be absolved.
Tired
Dysmorphia
A girl torn from a myth.
A lily shredded by the hands
of an angry crowd,
rotting in the bowels like something
that resembles beauty,
a manufactured substitute
that causes cancer in rats.
How the words can reverse
themselves in your head.
How everything becomes
distorted in reflection.
Reflection
Pain
Pain
A belly pressed against the frame.
Steel arms stretched like specimens.
How many times can we beg them
to amputate our minds?
The skin hangs in the window,
drying like jerky, bones like glass
held together by pins.
The ecstasy of opening a window
to relieve the pressure,
the broken-down cross
like a placebo for pain.
Blood Sugar Earth
Everything is older now,
more forgetful.
The body struggles
to break things down
like the type-2 diabetes
of the planet.
Someday, the budding of a rose
will be a cataclysmic event,
glaciers melting like tears
around its thorns,
the type-O juices
giving birth
to the end of the world.
Vulnerability
Body/Mind
What takes months to repair
takes months to unravel.
Everything is a community of ghosts
dancing in the blue hour.
Everywhere, communities of cells
are multiplying in the rotting
networks of the body.
The irony of physics
is that you may not be able
to heal yourself without belief.
Damaged
Tenacity
The freeway on-ramp
is a Rorschach.
There’s nothing you can do
to stop it,
but it’s easy to become
night-blind and vengeful,
easy to lie to yourself
until you can’t see
the color for the sky,
the peach trees exploding
like backfiring cars.
Tenacity
