Day Eleven: Poem of Origin

NaPoWriMo2019, Poetry

Sage and palo santo smoke, rosaries and guiltless guilty,

That time he thought it was okay to hit me,

Soft snuggles, the warmth of her fur,

The first snow of that last winter,

It’s said you can’t go home again,

When all is lost, Truth, home is within



Clear Lake


My Grandmother is now a bed of scattered stones,

My Grandfather, the cold, cutting breeze across my cheek,

My Mother, the forgiving lotus,

My Sister, the twinkling stars,

My Father, the familiar stranger,

& She teaches me to trust,

& He teaches me to love,

& I am

a cobalt feather,

riding the breeze of my ancestors,

all the way home.



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