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Bless My Mom

My mom had to learn to live with me. She learned she’d never be free. She looks back at the sonogram. When I was a little lamb. And wonders what I would be. If I could grow up like a good old tree. But she cries words unspoken. She would rather my legs be broken. She would rather I couldn’t see. Her on her knees with her prayers and pleas.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 8/5/2021 7:29:00 AM
Oh wow. Visceral piece! I think this poem’s going to stick to me a while. Excellent write. xomo
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things