Friday, June 16, 2017


How I've missed
the simple talks we'd have
About the meaning of words
And the glistening of fire
you told me once, but
I forgot, forgive me.

How I've missed
watching your strong arms,
Hands grasping about tools,
and the making of the fire
you taught me once,
but I forgot, forgive me.

I shared a kiss,
of fire, not of passion.
Fire meant for the head,
and spread it did, around and throughout,
across a summer, bright and fertile,
But I forgot, forgive me.

I hold myself responsible
for words my grandmother entrusted me,
for deeds my grandfather tutored me,
for promises devised from a kiss
on lips which since have flown.
They were forsaken.

They were forsaken.
And my suffering has multiplied,
But in it I have REMEMBERED
The Protector of the Truth. I remember,

I remember and rededicate myself
to that lofty cause.
My heart, my light, my mind.
I have returned grandmother, grandfather,
as your champion.

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