At dawn when I rise, when I sing to him,
him with his little black boy curls behind little white boy ears,
him with his ardent passivity and uncouth loveliness,
it is then that I sense the suffering seed
is within me, too,
latent in all the succulent things
that rise to greet our disbelief.
Comments
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I love this style and the scene you create. In so few words the reader feels more than expected and is left wanting more. I'd pick a favorite line, but I wouldn't know where to start -- I like them all.
Great job.
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"the suffering seed
is within me too"
as it is in all of us . . . We are born, we experience the many variants of life and then we pass over to who knows where . . . a powerful write sister . . .
Marc
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