Tag: mother’s death
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At Sunset
Your death must mean just enough not to curse the day you were born,to stand by the water’s edgeand not want to swim with stonesuntil the first dark wave takesme under in a fetal pose,sinks me down in the last breath,the clear waters almost your ghostpushing me back, allowingme to walk away.Of course, I will…
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My Mother’s Sounds
I am not your dying son, I thought, as my wife gave me the diagnosis, remembering my mom in her dying chair. I will not pass into final memories watching the Pope in America. “Bless me, Papa”, will not be my last words. I do not believe in my mother’s God though He…