My sister is beautiful
pale like a rare dawn
she sheds light that is sometimes difficult
because though people claim they want illumination
...
There was a touch of gray
That day when I bled no red
and was dead for that one minute I stopped sinning
...
I found the bones of my grandfather
deep beneath the Patterson street
and drank secrets like sweet wine
...
With a touch of furrowed brow
an idle hand wipes the sweat off
...
I am a child Of the scarred Earth As are you. Let us seek together now Something Greater Than ourselves.)
Ode To Sister Greta
My sister is beautiful
pale like a rare dawn
she sheds light that is sometimes difficult
because though people claim they want illumination
they fear those rays of daylight
that may expose
scars born of the night
Like a rare dawn my sister brings
song
on delicate wings
And strong tea to paint smiles on yawning lips.
Pale like a rare dawn
that wakes the wolf
and stirs the fawn.
My sister is beautiful.
Pale like a rare dawn.