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Poem: (MARANATHA) WHERE MY LOVE AND I SHALL REST






Photo by Ursula Jacobs* Summer 2018 Ruston, Washington



At night, when my wings are laid to rest
And my love and I prepare for the little death,
(The one that has hope of morning light on soft brown skin),
I chatter like a child and place my head upon his chest

And there is joy and expectation, for one day
We will be planted in the earth like seeds
Our bodies laid side by side he and I
In the land his ancestors plowed
Proudly put an X on the deed
(Pride of ownership far outweighing the shame of illiteracy),

My love and I will wait, we,
Will wake to true light
Every tear, every tear
Ever shed, consoled
Truth and light
Maranatha



Copyright 2018

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From Bearer of the Caul* TheMiniTroubadoura (UJ) 2017







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Nights like these When I still wore plats I would have taken to the streets Not for some illicit scavenger hunt Not for the sake, of stirring the pot     
No, just to feel this mist upon my skin,  and this wind whisper in my ear                                             As it is, I find reasons to go outside The trash must go out I must purchase candles and condensed soup My, these doormats need a sweeping Such matronly neglect shall not go unnoticed I must stay out a little longer...... And gulp the air as if I am suffocating For I am suffocating, at times On nights like these When my soul swells as if to burst From the beauty of it all From the sheer ugliness of it all Oh, life is hard when hearts are soft Steals the very breathe from us Reason brings callouses To the budding of dreams And rain weakens roots So, I must tend to these weeds As if it is sane to garden At 1 am in the rain
Minitroubadoura 2018