Blood

It is sacred–

like limited water

running across the Sahara

I nourish every sip

of forgotten holy land,

hand born privilege

unlimited love

my face mirrors my father’s,

gives thanks to my mother’s

three-time-giving-birth-

to-poetry

that kept the old river running,

just added some new water to the brink.

 

Family:

it is sacred

for never will a friend abandon themselves

to meet me at the train station, the airport

California air, full sun

reminding me I will have my blood

always,

albeit running its own course,

it will continue to run to the bottom of our sea.

 

August 31, 2014

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4 thoughts on “Blood

  1. I would think that the challenge in writing poetry would be to pull the reader into that state of emotion you’re experiencing when writing a piece with a signature that differentiates you from other writers. One commonality I’ve read in your work is “to be grateful for.” A big “Thank you.”
    Sorry, I’m thinking out loud. Obviously I like your work.

    • Nothing to be sorry about, you made my day. I suppose we can only hope as writers that we are getting a unique, but still relatable, message out into the world. I’m so grateful (haha) that you can feel this from my writing. Peace and love ❤️

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