I am a child of thine dawn
Torn by your loom
borne by the moon
Unto it's women, it waxes
I am smiled upon
Storm and monsoon
Warm is thine womb
For, the rain be thine practice
And the tide be mine axis
And we ride, wildly into the blackness.
Oh, wretched, hard, stinging flower
Stretched, scarred and singing in to your final hour
How deep were your dancing roots
How proud and plenty were you in your fruits
Martyrous flower of numerous shower
Who carried lofty raindrops on your back
Like medals gleaming one by one
Your pedals gilded by the sun
And all the creatures were your friends
Wise spiders, spinning marvelous webs
Between your leaves
Within which you weaved
Ornate thrifted trinkets of
Fantastic timeless stories and intricacies
Providing shelter to those uprooted
Pouring water into streams polluted
Ornery, audacious flower
Always with the sun on your skin
Ever with fight in your limbs.
Always a coat on your back
Iridescent gems in tact
Always with your song in the sky
Fervent passion in your eyes
Always with rosary on your chest
Never an ounce of sleep nor rest
Always with a smoke in your hand
And even when you could barely stand
Music in your snapping fingers, rhythm in your tireless shoes
And always carrying someone more helpless than you.
When you surrendered to the soil
Your heavy heart and suffering bones
Did you cling, remembered to turmoil
Your steady part in your loving home?
Or did you soften unto the earth, who pardoned
Your pain so you may grace a purer garden ?
And if I fall asleep tonight
Would you all but keep the light on?
Please make up my bed along the golden shore
the way you always did before.
3/7/44 - 10/11/16