Song of My Mother

                  1.
She’s there in the chorus of voices
buzzing from a transistor radio
simultaneously there and uptown
at the Colosseum named for
our
fallen
king.

A sweeping crescendo and her clear-lake alto
rises above all other voices
angelic soloist crackling
through the ether -
if I opened our front door
I might hear her song on the snowy wind
flowing from all those miles away.

It is dark outside
& the air is crisp with the promise of Christmas.

                       2.
The doffing machine rushed into her ears
like a misdirected river
day in & day out
six days a week
until one day the finger of God
unplugged the circuits
and the room slowed to a murmur.
For an hour the women stood
speculating at their posts until a foreman
shuffled down the row & announced
“there’s a hurricane out there, you can go home
for the day.”

Pushing against relentless wind she
stumbled out into an intersection
just as a steeple crashed to the ground.
Her prayers rested on her lips
linking arms with coworkers
to form a chain against the furious gusts.

                       3.
She ascends
above treeline
foot by foot
leaning upon her walking stick
while I wait admiring
the azure sky.
any moment she might
burst into a chorus of
Climb Ev’ry Mountain
yet for now, she is catching her breath
and I am grateful for the miracle
of having hiked this far.

Oh! Pride of humanity,
Look at the garbage on the
land of the Moon.
Oh! Ego of humanity,
By the virtue of which
you held the Son of God yourself.
Look at the space full of garbage,
Look at the land of Mars.
All the elements are
signatures of Satan.
Do you still dare to call
yourself offspring of God?
Have you ever asked Land?
Have you ever asked water?
Have you ever asked space?
Have you ever asked planets?
Have you ever asked elements?
Prove your testimony
to be a creature of sovereignty.
You wrote scriptures
and laws in your favor,
and declared yourself supreme

I cannot silence it.

Words simmer forth from void to
Bone to skin.

Seep through
Sludge
Gold flecked river bottom

Rising up
Steady and thick with spirit
With blood
All of your silenced selves

Lanced from the wounds of the
Midnight hour
You clutch your own skin
Hot and red
Strip away the heavy years that
Told you to be quiet.

Howl in agony,

Sing

Whistle the ghosts in through the Windows cracked just so
The crisp night air weaves like
Snakes of ice
Around your neck and now

You write

You write

You write.

Autumn’s Sleep
She wakes in the morning
as the sunshine’s through
pours herself a coffee
a spoon of pain and sorrow to

her friends are shades of reds, yellow
tertiary colors to

her insides so broken
for so long
they won’t fuse

She goes to sleep at ebony's feet
not caring enough
to see another tomorrow

Beautifully Broken
2024

Sunset kisses,
the ocean’s skin.
Orange light cradles,
in the waves' arms.
And the sky’s darkness,
finds a home,
in the ocean's heart.