Lost Work found and shared

Poem 6

Death is no beginning to spinning tires screeching

Across the “Do Not Enter” signs

Death isn’t no lighting striking trees

Over local family houses.

It isn’t the day we would wonder our whole lives about.

But would fear true knowledge of the same day.

It isn’t a day when families grieve nor have yet to know

In bliss of a passing member.

It’s that moment before we hear it.

They stand still, long enough to cry before the apologies

And hugs of support come to catch me in my sorrow.

Broken heart’s hold each other in broken sorrows and despair.

Poem 7

Why does the moon show during the day

but during the night the Sun is now where to be found?

Is it too bright?

Or is it too big?

Is the moon just a shining rock?

Orbiting across the sky, flying high, looking back at us with gloom.

Showing all it’s faces, full, half and quarter and sometimes not at all.

And then the stars.

Poem 8

Mother of the project homes on section A

Living in buildings made of crumbling bricks,stone, and clay.

With screen doors that slammed

Harder than the life that Gina lived.

Mother of two, One more on the way.

Depressed by sounds of a phone call from the school.