Monthly Archives: July 2017

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Letters to My Father’s Killer

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To say- I saw the day approaching… My bones grew up without one mention of what life must be. A threefold chain to shutter waters upon a grave.

To stand on 54th street, knowing this place, I walk by. A man died here. He was my father. A broken tender blade fell into his heart. The white carpet sobbed -his blood in us.
I was three, my brother and sister four. If I ever met my father’s killer I’d say thank you. For this lingering moment- satisfied how proud I must make the man I will not know.  Thank you, for every day, I strive to make it home.

Thank you, without delay, I cause no further hurt. For this wound, gave – many a lesson.  Life can be a simple pause so I dare to make this one my very best.
Dear Father, I love you.~Krissy
(A True Story of My Childhood) (photo image Pixabay)

Diaries of Refuge:

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Dear God…. you know the voices of many- in urban jungles like this. The concrete stays inflamed. Her heat is without satisfaction. Lonely musicians harp cords into galley- ways.

Afar off the city writes letters to the dead. Why haven’t you come home? Why haven’t we made this place home? Who’s left to shed blood? Whose smiles are forgotten?

Who is now to abide … Tribulation, degradation, violations, so what is…. what is…. alleged convictions of twisted morality, “Our fathers sit on benches” with their submissions in toe…~Krissy  (photo taken by my personal camera this past winter)

Early Rising:

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Finding myself, in a quiet place early in the morning. While the trees relieve its sap. The never sleeping squirrels nibbling on acorns. Summer showers and sun-rays fashion bows across the sky. Looking beyond: it has aligned us to be here, to be – alive, to feel its warmth and know – heavenly eyes are upon us.~Krissy♥

Image photo: pixabay.com