When the war is over and the ground tilled
a new bloom will make home in her spirit
Ma reminds me of struggle and strife
Take care of your own and to God the rest.
For voice, hope, strength
every poet weighed with
the power of the truth –
our very existence the resistance
It’s #FiveMinuteFriday at Kate Motaung’s place. The word prompt is MORE. I’m not a prose kind of person at 4:00 a.m.
It is said some don’t grow into their name
it fits like a pair of medias
two sizes to small
Never an empty soul
Because he made it so.
Friends, I’m over at Alice Williams’s place with an Ode To The Broken Hearted. Come by.
…from deep down dig it out phrases – shrapnel caught in the ligaments of my new place, this new place I call grace.
This is how you find me/open hands, gathering/vestiges of paper-thin soul/visible deep creases/I used to be a paper crane.