I know what others think, and say…
I know the petty, mocking people-
of life past..
They ALL haunt me nomore.
My unknown salvation-
wore whispers on lips.
for somebody’s mistake.
This always, under mask,
So many years, wasted of tears,
over what some Bitch, boy, or a few had to say.
They formed someone other,
abrasion does grid
The sharp, honed strength ..
refined through fire, one could say.
And on tarnished angel wings,
shines a moment more.
Look! rust, resembles good dust,
in the waning light.
Winters cauldron will,
stir once more,
ever refining the brew.
Pouring in reflections of one,
Dedicated to my dear Sister, Trena Jane Douglas Bauer,
born November 19, 1965, leaving us all far too soon on August 23, 2016.