THE TRUTH (A MOTHER’S LOSS)
Folded by the hands of time
That took from her her youthful crimes
Of thinking that she could outrun the arms
Of dreamers who are dead and gone?
Leaping, laughing in another tongue
Whose wag and swagger kept her young,
She loved to live and lived and loved,
Outgrowing all the friends she used to think of,
Sadly, living in a land of hate
That loves to broadly scare and bait,
And younger still
Her sister’s sweet twirling on the asphalt sheets,
Learning to hide in city streets,
But not like the playground’s game she misses.
She had to hide from bullet’s hisses;
Their naked heat too cold to beat;
Their kisses she was bound to meet:
Another’s hunger, her stomach churning
While across the pond our cooks were burning
Tossed out culinary waste
But not so far her tongue could taste.
Our swigs and swallows depressed us all,
While her stomach’s hollow bursting called
So silently; that tribal mom?
That neighbor mom?
Her son is gone across the globe to keep from harm
Another mom whose son is gone
To Tango, Foxtrot, Swing a gun.
Her card danced full, her heart at rest,
Hung out to sweat the wait of decades’ pressed thumbs
Buried deep within her brow,
The worry no mom can not know how.
She got word, today:
The early mourning knock on the door
Was too much for her to chore.
But who is innocent when peoples’ cheers
Drown out the cries of others’ fears,
When power is gift
And fighting shifts
Are thought the norm?
We all deform
And twist and chase
The truth we want to be in place!
As long as love sits not aside,
A daughter’s sister’s mom will die.