everyone dies - everyone dies, i suppose she's right,and our wings, maybe they're just as bound to flightbut also true for us; few really dare to chase sunlight.
Dear Mother, [may I always call you that?]
there’s still coal dust sitting in your lungsfrom four generations backwe could never quite breathe without it.we have a strange way of saving picturesof people no one can remember anymorebut memory isn’t always concrete, sometimes it’sfluid and love isn’t always tangibleand maybe i’ll take better care of preserving who i amafter transcribing all these unreadable inscriptions.
we’ve lost three homes to house-fires& yet we’re not afraid to smoke,it’s never the flamebut the ashes that worry us.
I'm also loving how consistent you are with your theme, and by theme, I don't mean just the locusts- I feel like all your poems are so carefully connected to each other
There's also been this sort of gentleness in your poems? Acceptance? If I tried to explain it, it's like a calm reassurance, or a flow in all your poetry that atleast gives the illusion of serenity and gentle love for the world around you and your ancestry and bugs
I really think you did such a splendid job with this one, each line packs such a punch to the gut, and the entire theme with leaving fathers and forest fires was such a clever device to use, I'm still mind boggled by how you managed to come up with concept
You're such an amazing poet, and definitely a big source of my inspiration <3333333 I wish you lots of luck on your next poem or venture, thank you for sharing, and keep growing <33333
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