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



that kept the old river running,

just added some new water to the brink.



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


albeit running its own course,

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


August 31, 2014


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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