When my words waste away
I want all the feelings I created
to last beyond my me’mries.
Even me’mries will fade away,
but all the feelings I caused are
going to stay and be passed on.
The tenderness I gave to you showed
you how to soothe your own and
they will feel the crisp warmth.
When I pierced you with thorns
you bled salty waters, an imbalance
was spurred and a deprivation dug.
The discomfort I gave to you showed
you how to inflict your own and
they will feel the honey bee’s sting.
I bottled my words like the jams
in the cupboard. Mason jars leaking
heavy air to the concrete floor.
[For my Mother; she would’ve been 38 on March 28th]
©Terrah Short 2012