Is for the child
Sprinting through the crimson streets
Tripping over the last breaths
Of her father
For the mother
Protecting her babies’ ears
From the piercing shrieks that echo
Long after the ashes settle Continue reading “[Poetry] An Elegy For Them”
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
First, they came and took my father away.
I remember the quiet shuffling of his worn out boots,
The oil-stained fingers waving goodbye and
My screams splattered across my brain like a dirty tattoo.
Next, they came and took my mother away.
I remember the fading scent of her jasmine perfume,
The fish stew bubbling as they walked her out and then
The deafening silence of the room. Continue reading “[Writer’s Quote Wednesday] Jus Soli”