on love and loss

away

through cries of

sympathize

when no one cares to
sort the truth of a mortared pain that
stacks behind lines of a half-smile because
she
won’t
be a burden or a drag, she’ll just

puff

another while he prays

falls

with his grace

none

hold him close.

Scorned.

Told she was
lesser than,
that her clothes,
her hair, the way she spoke was not pleasing
enough to this God among men. She endured
nights of doubt, of fear, of uncertainty that
she would do the right thing to keep her family

safe and whole…

meanwhile tossing her own self over the edge
in infinite ways that never meant death.

efforts

to shut him out

never

to be replenished

anger

with all her claws intact.

sacred fiest,

justifiable

fury

in the atrocities done
to her, to others that she can not,
she will not suffer
or stand by silently
to curse another sunrise.

He’s won.

Holes and a series of rabbits — my debut poetry collection — now available! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B089RRRGXX/

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