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words from my motheer and my father |
| Candle breath . when the candles breath so do the ghosts it is their irreverent call of life on the street that Makes me wonder Why they think they can draw life Where they have asked a toll. When the candles breathe I hold my breath Until i am a babe rubbed...then swaddled...watching the candles On my mother’s mantle. Ghost Do not bother me with your vain thoughts, or arrogant summons my mother loves me far beyond the time the candles burn or the wick or the wicked or the wicked you thought I was I breathe when the candles breathe And wait for Other swaddled others loved And light the candles again . Father will I ever know you. My brothers said I would. They spoke about the candle They spoke about the fire They told me of your youth And how you were for hire Daughter I breathe And know your children are swaddled And they will do so for others Do not forget to paint your walls And watch for the babe that needs To be swaddled . |