She knew her King James by heart,
the psalms, the proverbial wisdoms,
passed about through their many
translations, now bouncing around
her mind: Luke, Peter, and John's lines.
She read every-morning,
on her wall there were two fish,
one for Jesus
the other for Pisces,
the many stars and
the only begotten son,
they determined her decisions.
Bible verses and horoscopes
television shows of psychics
helping the law, helping people
talk to the dead, those eternal
lingering souls of loved ones,
and simply telling others of their
future - it's all been laid out
in a plan.
Her ways were reminiscent of the old days
before all of this was fiction,
she was the realest thing I knew
and she still represents everything
I don't have the courage to accept.
Death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem