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 Aug 2016 Rachel
Ignatius Hosiana
Death is real...
You can never tell when you breathe your last...
so poems are my will...
**& mouthpiece when i return to mere dust
 Aug 2016 Rachel
AK Bright
She looks in the mirror
At the age on her face
"I wonder what he thinks
of me this way?"

She considers her weight
and the pores on her skin
She thinks out loud
"I don't deserve him."

She picks apart
the woman he loves
Separating her worth
from all that she does
              
He looks in her eyes
and caresses her face
He sees it glowing with love
and full of grace

 The lines on her face
  he views with pride
  Recounting the victories
  each time they've been tried

The weight that she carries
 is that of a mom
 Nothing's too heavy
 She just marches on

These bodies will perish
 and mirrors offer no truth
True love abides
 beyond the corridors of youth

  No, she doesn't deserve me
  Perhaps God can see
  Conceivably, one day
  I'll be as worthy as she
to the mother of my children. Happy Mother's Day!
 Jul 2016 Rachel
Ignatius Hosiana
the pieces fall into place
&
sometimes
the place falls into pieces
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