| Author | Message | ||
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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4223 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Chronological Order Treezaa (T.E. Ballard) Why do we count the ages of the dead as if, they are waiting somewhere for life to begin? I am watching this child in the café and I recite months, days. My baby was born with a cord, a blue ribbon wrapped around his neck and I believed if I untied the string, he would breathe or did I believe he would float away? Grief is a bead; an abacus of nights where I dream of small fish opening and closing their mouths to pray. |
