The toil and the beauty, rest in these lines. A poet in the night, quelling my feign voice.
Down in the grotto of my heart
The swarm swells,
Into the anguish well
Where I wallow in my ancestors’ wounds
Mauve and violent, flame-scarred,
On the train tracks
The past and present entwining,
On raised birthmarks
Through German arms…
“Great-Grams, I would have held you back”
It’s been in my heart for awhile…got it out with words. Thank you for all your kindness and understanding. I have all next week off from work,so that means more time to enjoy your art. And maybe another poem will emerge from me.
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Enshrined Poetry 
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