Categories
poetry

aloe

she,
born behind wire gates, 
was
pushed down
then up 
and through
salted earth.

left over,
left behind wondering
if she could 
have done anything
to be seen
as valuable as
her siblings.

family is 
made to feel 
like a luxury item
that she does
not deserve
but will serve
in the place
parents 
should have
stood.

she mothers
with this in mind.
and would
want you 
believe that
her suffering
means nothing
despite its
shingle hanging
above everything
else.

my mother loads up
her words
like a freight train,
red hot coals
throw up steam 
and we
sweat keeping
her car on 
the rails.

By chrisjcluff

I am a 'flow' seeker. In my day to day work I help students, colleagues, and community members make the most of the moments afforded us through public education. If I am not asking questions, I am not learning.

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