Two years ago today you crossed that barbed path and the silence weighs heavy but not still. As I look to Pickles kicking I am reminded that nothing ever truly dies to those with open eyes, and you know me Mother, my eyes are wider than most. The songs of forever after don't hide from me on this wretched earth and I play them repeatedly knowing End is not so final or frail, and knowing you are not at End.
For You
There is hole now where once I ran to hide
from bitter things that would eventually pass;
a shelter where comfort was in abundance
and I knew to be safe.
A beach where all things were possible
even a peaceful world,
where I indulged without war or anger.
It has withered now you have gone
and I no longer find sanctuary.
I miss you mother
you were my peace,
my cotton swab -
all roads lead to you...
@Steven Francis poems 2010
About Me
- Steven Francis
- I started writing in school and discovered it was the only thing that could hold my interest (apart from sex). I knew from the lump inside me that some creative channel had to be my direction. And be good or bad it is some kind of legacy.
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