The Moya View

Reverb



Reverb
 

I am my mother’s voice now.
 equal to her in sorrows.
 
Softer  in her hopes,
gentler in her sadness.
 
That velvet grief heirloom,
too valuable to discard.
 
The reverb
of all her  hurts —
 
grandmother’s tears,
father’s moans.

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