Runaway To Our Angels
Runaway to our angels
Dearest Mama, I'm not going to lie to you.
My captors plan on killing me. Right now,
I am under the duress of blindfolds.
With paper and pen I find in this cell
between these four walls of hell, I write
my last words. I love you mama. Please Promise
me you will remarry again, and replant your garden.
Mama I kneel at the altar and write this
poem to you. I pray for us.
Love you always, PP
Rosey daughter so filled with laughter
under the guise of pain that turned to blood
now at the hour of her death, till we meet
again mama in the afterlife where angels
welcome us separately and take the thorns
away from the past and repose the blossom's
yellow bud to flower like it's never had before.
Paris Pachecho
connie pachecho
1/1/17
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