Why am I silent?
What am I to do when the sweetest sounds
Seep out softly through my skin into the soil below
And without sun, rain, and wind
Become saplings doomed to die?
Saplings
Month: February 2016
Birth and Death.
Sweet child of mine,
Only afterbirth crept out of me
Capturing my absolution
In a soaking white light
Fracturing it into darkness
And then trailing behind
For this lifetime
You will follow me as I swallow
Lessons. And spit them un-learnt
Onto the pavement of life
Or for eternity I will
Grapple with your ill gains
Think about those spasms of pain
When I beget you
I had help, dear
Dreams aren’t born still
And sadness does not follow
From the acts of a single woman
They are conceived collectively
Sometimes forced upon you
After long battles under the summer sphere
Remember that I will always speak
With the bitterness of my early twenties
Who needs heels and sparkly dresses when
You can twist and turn from heartburn
Rise and fall in spirals, and proudly
Carry stretch marks from your wretched cowering
And hence, sweet child of mine
As you traverse mountains and seas
(or maybe even galaxies)
Remember, I will follow
With a host of dead souls.
Blue Loft 
