Background:
Completed:
Our Sons, All
They arrive from the
blue-green currents of
the womb,
fast beating a blinding pure pulse.
And as quickly,
the hourglass turns --
black sands of time
relentless
through red life,
white innocence
tinged to black awareness,
tainted by black knowledge,
timed by black death --
Someone's sons.
My son.
Our sons, all.
06/14/12
L. Antonia Brown
Isle of Sky Words
[acrylic, photos, calligraphy ink, vintage
wallpaper, anguish & all my heart]
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