Lost and bewildered, I sat on her knee; “Come here child, let me preach.”
“Breathe into your life and unto God, you will pray.”
Wide-eyed and despondent, I held the death letter; I made the circle, drew the stain.
“Queen Laveau, take from me this sadness, shelter from me this pain.”
A grin danced on her lips with the stain intact; white on black.
“Saint Expedite, unsanctify this child, show him our ways.”
The last words uttered to me, by The Mother Marie.
This corpse wanders the earth, now alone; with an aching in its bones.
One day I suppose she will come for me, and with that final breathe, I will say,
“Voodoo woman, Come sing to me your lullaby so that I may pray.”