
He lies on the floor
unable to move or speak
I leave him there
that angry man
and let his mind expire
the ambulance arrives
carries him away
he cannot move
the right half of him
is paralyzed
my youth
spent away living
in a den of darkness
the bedroom was only
a place for bitter dreams
beaten by his temper
neglected by his need
for wealth
I turn soft with sweets
hands cripple in a cry
feet frozen in the sand
I choose to leave
this place of comfort
a closet full of clothes
vestiges of camouflage
for a lonely barren life
don’t know, don’t know
I’ve lost my honest voice
where do I go
how can I stand
on these trembling legs
God give me strength
I must not give in
to buckling knees
die my mother’s death
her pockets torn…
with old regrets
Genie Nakano, Published 2015 in “Bright Stars”, Editor M. Kei
For my all Sisters this is Woman’s Month.
love her pocket torns…with old regrets
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