the ceiling is high,
it leaves too much room for ghosts,
I cannot see them.
Mint tea in clean mug,
warm and small feelings of joy,
which I hold onto.
If you could have our child,as a woman I wouldhold your handin labour when youman spread all across thehopsital bed,your hairy legs caught inthe metal traps ofpain, I would hold your hand,when I heard your criesagain and again,with tears in your eyes but to my own uterus I hold disdain,why do I have to be […]More
feeling warmth and rest
the rise and fall of my chest,
like ocean wave's crest.
If I am to remember,what does that truly mean? Does it mean to remember the guns fired,to watch the scarlet blood gleam,or to touch the spirits who are still alive today,and hold them in high esteem? If I am to remember,what am I to forget?For it is difficult to say I am sorry,when we have […]More