Saturday, June 4, 2011

I'd rather be down some dark holler where the sun refuses to shine

The dogs are all barking. Wonder who's coming up the driveway? I go into mom's room, but she's asleep. She doesn't know who's coming for me, she doesn't understand my dread. She hasn't seen my coughing up blood, she hasn't noticed that I'm short of breath. She's got her own weight to bear. When I seem down, she'll run her hands through my hair and tell me she understands. She doesn't know me. She only knows the person that life made me. I was laying in my bedroom one night and I saw the Angel of Death. She spoke in every language at once, but I understood what she said.

No comments:

Post a Comment