Wednesday, December 26, 2012


Mother -
your children were endangered
while you were playing house;
pretty bows and three-piece suits
couldn't shield their eyes;
the pain that came
in whispered lies
built their lives on fear;
some days you gifts were kind,
a distraction from the real,
but they knew what you were hiding
was truth more sure than words.

Mother -
have you heard your children's song?
Did you think they were misguided?
Their roots were twisted by your needs,
but pain has made them real;
their paths have parted,
they've sought their souls
in places lush and barren;
what cures they've found
grew untainted by veneers;
you'll find your world
of skirts and ties
far from where they dwell. 

Monday, December 17, 2012

blood makes a bitter cage

Winter's chill creeps in,
frosting your mask with diamonds -
I thought you were a hero,
sent to guard my soul.

The oaths we made
were iron in my eyes,
and I shed my blood
to make them true.
You waved goodbye
and in your hands
our oaths washed away -
running like a river
my heart could not dam.

In barren silence
I see my iron light -
Your oath is only the mist,
and blood makes a bitter cage.