Georgia Cranko
...a beautifully volatile and disabled existence of raw humanity, art and activism...


[...fault lines]

I fill the holes in my mind with these words,
But the darkness shines right through,
It shines where the metaphors are supposed to be,
And stays where my blood runs blue.
I never claimed to be a poet,
Just a woman trying to find meaning and some light,
There’s not anything that fits together nicely,
Nor anything that isn’t worn down by spite.
I was told once that my thoughts were unthinkable,
That my skin is too scarred and paper-thin,
And maybe that is all true, I am not unbroken,
But my fault lines lead you to what really lies within.
Georgia Cranko