Tuesday, October 21, 2014

October 16

Third anniversary of my sister's death.

Look, my dear,
The sky is lightening—
I am no longer in the dead of night:

My fear now somehow softer
Than the sin of my transgressions.
Perhaps now I can love
Without the thoughts of retribution.
Lay vengeance-laden ways aside,
In favor of a better world,

Where honest sorrows are the kings and queens,
The night a womb, and not a crypt.

I'll slip each care into its daily coffin,
Loving the lady—

She is with me even now.

Slip soft wings of prayer around my shoulders.


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