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I've watched you take what's mine and claim it as your own
You've poisoned my people and desolated my home
You're a disillusioned blind leading a flock of blind sheep
You've turned your back on me, you say you're your own king
You've forgotten that I've given you this land long ago,
To look after my people and harvest what I've sowed
You've grown into weeds, casted in the net
You'll be gathered into bundles and burned in the furnace

I, your father, who made you
My blood I share is yours
I sent my brothers to save you
But you ****** them in the courts
Their righteous blood is now upon you
You killed them with yours swords
What now am I to say to you
In this never-ending war

You are my children
My own flesh and bone
Oh how I've longed for you
To return your home
While you killed those I've sent
To help you from your suffering
My heart was to gather you
Like birds under my wing
No matter how my heart has yearned
You remained unwilling
Look, your house is desolate
Your time here is withering

One day again, you'll see me
The day I hear you say
"Blessed are those who come in your name"
The third day of sitting vigil.
He lay so still,
Eyes closed,
Shallow breathing.
How small and in repose he looked.
His skin taunt and sunken,
So pale and grey.

Long had I loved and respected
This grown ancient appearing face,
Now pain and sickness changed.
His hands barely covered,
With a thin veneer of grey skin.
The finger bones so plainly visible.
Holding his hand, it felt ice cold.

I had watched some men die,
Understood how sudden,
Death could come.
Eyes open and voice speaking,
And a second later, they were gone.
An empty shell of what they had been.

For days now family and friends,
Came and went,
Seeing no change,
Tired or bored,
Needing Nicotine,
Or food left that room.
And yet I stayed,
Vowing to myself,
That he should not die alone,
To be there to the end.

He had fought the good fight,
Fending off the inevitable,
Brave and stubborn was who he was.
The results of all that,
Turned his departure into a
Protracted reluctant journey.

He had not opened his eyes
Nor said a word in days.
Still once in a while a shallow
Breathe was taken,
And the Life Monitor,
Beeped and abated.

Alone in the room,
I said my goodbyes,
Professed my love
and kissed his forehead.
He stirred and weakly,
Opened his eyes,
The most he could offer in reply.

His eye lids fluttered twice and
One last breath was audibly taken.
74 years of living and just like that,
My Father’s worldly existence ended.  

The Heart Monitor toned,
A continuous flat line death song.
I reached up and unplugged it.
All these years later,
In my mind I can still hear it.

How brief and fleeting,
This gift of life,
Never to be taken for granted.
To a young person 74 years seems
like forever, take it from me, it is not.
I seldom ponder this memory,
I choose to remember my Dad
as he was in life, bigger than life,
my mentor, coach and dear friend.
My strong and some times flawed
and all too human Father.
And when I do, I always smile.
 Feb 2014 Heather Moon
September
A slate cannot
be wiped clean
if sins are
written with a
chisel.
 Feb 2014 Heather Moon
Katie Mac
Dye
 Feb 2014 Heather Moon
Katie Mac
Dye
I dye my hair to be different
from the person I was an hour ago.
I didn't like her very much.

I take a picture or two
to memorialize my new baptism
of peroxide and pigmentation.

The chemical smell fades and the new
becomes commonplace
and I'm back to the person that I was.

And I'm fraying like the ends of my hair
and splitting and breaking and I'm her again:
just as ugly as ever.
 Feb 2014 Heather Moon
So Jo
to sea
 Feb 2014 Heather Moon
So Jo
deep into the wet and salt
uncried tears bracing cheeks
don't matter

run before the wind
slipping on the moon's reflection
lose the world behind  
in whalesong

turn back only then
when the swell has tossed
all inside shifting still

turn back to the world
torn pockets spilling sand
Let’s pour a little salt,
flavor the Earth,
so She’s the only one to remember
that we were ever here.

2. I painted Care and Sympathy’s portraits,
and (falsely) titled it Love.
And you hung it on your wall to remind yourself
you weren’t entirely alone.
But I’m sure you’ve taken it down by now
and it’s sitting in a corner, under the white sheet of time.

3. And if I faced death today,
I would like to think
I could face him without flinching.
As long as he would strike quickly, in the head or the heart.
I shouldn’t mind at all.

4. He called me tiny dancer
even though I couldn’t dance.
At least not very well.
He still insisted on waltzing
in my parent’s kitchen
despite my stepping on his toes.
get out of those pj's
and into some jeans
altho i obey
i
dont know what that means
my life does unravel
undone at the seams
i prefer life by night
under moon beams
A poem about avoidance
Woke up with a sting
Sharp needles syringe
Flowing through streams
Corrupting young dreams
Lying through teeth
Beautifully preached
Promises lies to cease
Reality fails to exist
Your words fenced
Summer sweet stench
Spaces traps
Narrowing gaps
You ain't fooling
I'm still living
Minds ain't dreaming
I'm no longer breathing

©2014 Maman Screams
 Feb 2014 Heather Moon
Jessie
I have seen nothing
and I am even less
I have been here my whole life
Redundancy has a comfort to it
sometimes

But I have dreams
about climbing redwood forests
higher than any skyscraper
that have faces etched into their trunks
and dreams
of mushroom houses with neon skies
and being kidnapped by wolves and we howl and howl
Sometimes I even have lucid dreams of flying
walking through walls
and time travel
I have dreams of being a hero and saving the world
and there's a recurring one about falling in love with
a man I do not even recognize yet

So hopefully you can excuse me
for not always being ecstatic
when I wake up in the mornings
and find myself in a human bed
In plain sight, the Peacocks ply their wearisome
Colours.  Awkwardly swaying, pompously preening,
They cry to be seen, their voices are gurgling  
And gawking.  The direction of wind is their vane.

Overhead, in the secret sky fleet wings are truth.
In the sun the searing Falcon is seeing all;
His talons turn and steal away, they are mad,  
Playful fingers— they will have their say.
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