Feathers in every color, fall from above. One lingers, kisses my palm. Motionless, I marvel at it. Oh, the possibilities! “Mama!” She screams. “I’m hungry!” The feather melts away. I light… Read more »
There’s an anger, a restlessness about you. You’re carrying scars from your childhood, perhaps. I see you in pigtails laying flowers on your mother’s grave on a winter morning. You’re wondering to yourself why Dad is crying and where Mom went. Or did your dad leave you when you were a child? Mom cried every time you asked her when dad would be back and you didn’t know why.