I am half-sick of shadows.
There, up there is my light
Where meteors shoot,
Where clouds form,
Where lightnings strike,
And stars come and go.

The thought of you is always with me
Like a BB just beneath the skin
That scar one reaches out to touch
Time and time again

Sic vita est, thus is life, it is what it is.

Some are waxing, some are waning;
Yet, throughout the seasons all are remaining.
As their little bulbed feet continue standing!

Beautiful bonnets in colors bright -
Salmon-pink, red, and candy-striped!
Each year, still, I see them as quite a sight.

Amaryllis brings my heart such delight!

The night is a silver cage
Containing the white bones of love;

My heart bleeds for you
I wish I had been able to flesh you out;

Yet, here we are
Barely human, anymore.

He was 3; issued a blanket,
It too was part of the property.
As I move into this thought
Africa becomes a coast.
I do not know it. Sandy or rock?
My mind moves into the forest,
My heart, into a village.
A toddler clings to the robe covering
The dark skin of her mother.
“Africa” the word is read,
“Place of birth: Africa”.

Your black heart will rot in your chest
And worms will eat your body;
Your name will be whispered in hushed tones
By mouths too ashamed to give it full voice.

With death comes a release.
No, I do not mean for the dead, but for the living.
The living can love more fully in their memories,

letting pain go.  

Like cream which rises in fresh warm, white milk
The seconds, moments, hours, days, months, years
That was filled with joy rise to the top of our thoughts,

And we have that release of bitterness, pain, anger,
Now settled to the very bottom or are discarded completely.
Thus, it leaves an uncomfortable dissonance.