Somehow you can ignore what you see but not what you feel. The gnawing away at night. When you walk the floor in search of tea. The hours seem longer, as if the clock won't sweep them away with its hands.
When a Poet Dies
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What do you do when a poet dies?
When Maya died Oh how I cried.
Who will give us the words from the other side.
A poet, a scribe, a teacher, a preacher, a...
Memories of Big Mama
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Last night I spent time with some of my father's sisters who are in town
because one of his sisters is in the hospital. Of course, I went to see her
first-...
1 comment:
The images here are vivid. Thank, Pam. They are also known. Tea is comforting.
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