When you feel impure,
Think of me…
I, who spent and risked so much for you,
That I have rendered myself into exhaustion.
Every innocence left in you, was born of me.
I’ll be damned, if I’ll be tainted.
When your ears have fallen on hushed voices,
And you eyes watch how they move in shadows,
Think of me…
In my self-willed banishment,
Where what is pure, is allowed to remain.
And solitude holds peace, instead of restraint.
When age has rendered you helpless,
Think of me…
Now that my patience is resolute,
And your mind is obsolete.
Notice how the cause and effect of life separated us.
When you have buried yourself alive,
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
Love,
Mom