Africa, children, Death, Grandmother, Love, poetry, Women

Purple (A Poem)

My mother lay upon an purple cloth

She was old and sick

The desert winds stole from her the water that sustained her life

She was dying

And yet she continued to sing

She song a story to my daughter

As she wept quietly in her arms

“Fear not little one

I love you little one

Tatah will keep you safe from the wind”

I took my daughter from my mothers’ skeletal arms

I kissed my mother goodbye

She sung her last note

I buried her that night in an purple cloth

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s