twenty-twenty II
(wishing for blessings)
My dad told me how to live
May you be blessed with all that
is good for your mind, body, and soul
and I told him how not to die
Be your own advocate and fucking
call the doctors
here I am still living
and him no longer dying
I hadn't thought about who
would walk me down
some distant aisle until
my brother asked me if
I'd be honored to have him to
at some phantom wedding
I hadn't placed myself
in that line of thinking
only placed there by the
patriarch and my brethren
and who's left to pray for me?
the spiritual types
I want in my corner
are dying
and the ones I want out
of the court
are saying they're thinking
and praying
but, really
they're persecuting and damning
and it's easier to write about politics
here than it is my dad
but normally
my poetry is more
self-involvement or -evolvement
than it is
socially charged
and so
I won't persecute or damn myself
but liberate myself and wish for blessings
About the Creator
Kayla Frances Murray
š Southeastern US-based writer/poetess š
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