I was indoctrinated
Into the Catholic faith, after I was six,
Into Signs of the Cross, and, who is boss
In the realms of my limited Godheads.
I was born in 1959, sheesh, an old year,
A non-year to Now, ago. Anyway, I don’t feel
I have a spiritual ‘Boss’, I never did. From the moment
Of unrecorded certificate-blessed birth, my precept
Of cognizance understood
The Golden Rule.

I didn’t know, but now I think, awareness is the key
To staying alive, some have it, some don’t. I had a cousin,
Who on an ‘early-on’ bike ride on a highway, got sucked
Into a semi draft, a circumstance of improbabilities
Which killed my red-freckled cousin. His sister died, after a
Valiant fight, many years later, from Crohn’s disease.
I didn’t realize, when I was young, I would love so much
To belong to my maternal family, after leaving,
Without really knowing, my West Coast roots and Irish name,
My divorced father’s name. Mom came from Doriots,
Lengthened from Dorio, by past links chains.
Dad was a Kelly.

I’m not real big on self-sacrifice, I figured those saints
Who died supplied furthered generations who needed lies
Some comfort, some sense of unity. Only, unity
Became a curse, Unity split from the Worlds of Verse.
And, compounded, unduly. Not unlike Middle Earth.
I mean, really, can you compare a downed horse
Throwing off an old king with the actual burnt flesh
Of many millions of beings and the murder of so many
Other lives through history of sapient beings?

Sacrifice. I can’t collaborate the meanings of this word,
Its worlds, its synonyms, into my mind. If I am to write
Of a word, I must know It, read its definitions. Ponder
The meanings of mind-catching awareness’, mull it’s ending…

Sacrifice is a serious word, in all eventualities.

To be cont.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 12/23/05