Remove the cloak from your eyes
What you see as shadows are bubbles
What you deem as cracks are stitches
To you, born into war
A lover's face is a poised gun, ecstatic for more
Blood, but I'm not made of red dust & chipped wood
For you, I would be
seeds, dried & salted for next season's harvest
leaves, bottled in oil & strained for autumn's feast
fruits, sugar-stirred & melted warm, sweet wine
If only you can rein in the beast inside
You, the one turning your honey tongue to stone
And strikes a fist from dead bone heart
Even in your murderous gaze,
I will not drift away, helpless as small bird
Here is my offering - a healing, a moving of wings-
a flare reflecting my mother's face.
She is a survivor too.
Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - I am hosting featured artist, Susie McMahon's arts & dolls ~ Please check out the link for more poems ~
Shared with Poets United
Shared with Poets United
Happy weekend & Happy Mother's Day ~
