Sunday, July 15, 2012

Inspired by the painting 'On Me' by Hossam Sakr



steadfast love

what is it, this not being able to be here

you ran to the plains

a thorn came and thrust inward

and so you adopted the outward

button holed and contained

yet the question continued

and shaped your gaze

with ochre tearing, a tear of tense

of past, of what now, of will

oh but the beauty still undeniable


and there is a child that remembers

and a mother's wish

Upon your face were whispers

hopes and dreams

and no yet, no yet or but – your heart held by a father's echo

the charcoal

and your name

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