Poem 12: Something. Look. Say.

Something

Freshly plastered imprints of fist-prints on a wall

A grown child grips her tattered book, while

Split lips mouth a prayer she memorized from it

Brown hair even looks just like her mother’s- perfect

For concealing a belt buckle cut- from neck

To shoulder, but she knows to cover her face

Unbeknownst they showed her long ago

“I was a bastard”. He says as he knelt;

Open hands toward her neck…clasped her

New gold crucifix; it’s just above her covered chest

Look.

Cold eyes warm as he hugs her– tells her he loves

Her. Through melted eyes, he looked just like…

When he took her hand to hold and adorned it

With gold from fingertips to her sliced wrists

As her sadness evaporates in a child- like bliss

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