November 3–9 ❘ Linked
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I wonder why
in all their post-earth existence
my parents have never visited
to seed my dreams with counsel
I would seek from them
if they still lived.
They wonder why
in my embodied state
with hands that feel and are felt
I don’t get to work heeding
words they poured into my ears
when they still lived.
We feel after each other,
hearts welded in mutual need
to meet again. We think
if it can’t be so, this world
is an utter waste.
Read more of my poetry at www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry
Contact me at merrijane.rice@gmail.com
