poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
and I Awaken,In Her Spirit that has not Forgotten Me,her people remember me,the waters continue to feed me,Clean me Out as if I’m their daughter,I am their Daughter,Daughter of Father
Love,and its Pains,Its Sting mightier than the Others,The Bee,and how it Punctures deep,Leaves its Pinchers in Flesh,Leaves me Bloodied,Black, Yellow, Maroon,Different stages in the Bruising of the Heart,Different marks left