Mother’s House
In my Mother’s House
There are many rooms
It will always be a sanctuary
To Those wrestling with beauty
In Truth.
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Kudos
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Kudos
In my Mother’s House
There are many rooms
It will always be a sanctuary
To Those wrestling with beauty
In Truth.
I saw two wagons bracketed in a blackberry winter squall Turning midnight into mad scramble Torches guttering Crossing the bald plain of two mountains Ladled with cakes and beer For the child in your belly Not so gently waiting to be... Continue →