Joy, your spirit would have made
your mama proud, the way you felt when (your) Mama wrote.
She fed your Thirst for words
and gave you something of importance,
far more valuable than beauty or fame,
more substantial than blood and bone,
that would last beyond the fragile papers
in your House of Solitude, for you have
received the torch of words
and have written your life in the palms
of those who come behind you,
The lines you etched, with your letters
and dreams, make a liar of the
make-believe mystic’s fortune, the words
the Palm Reader says.
What does she know of misguided love of man,
of the more steadfast love of words, of the tranquility of the ocean,
of grand actors and artists, of Dali and Shakespeare,
of passing the torch, the written word. She knows nothing, I say.
20 Lines
Written for:
Joy - Happy 8th WC (202)
For September 3rd Entry
Pin the Tail on the Donkey
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