Since When ...?
" Since when, do we burn our own? "
This small voice continued for so long
Misunderstood but never gone
In the papers of how she passed on…
The darkest secrets gone wrong.
Inside a shed marked " … The Servant of God …"
A ripped cover near a good Mother’s head
The book of Mary Teresa looking very sad
I touched the pages of this darken book
Brushing through dust to have a look
and then she fell…
" … the daughter I never had …"
became armour through hell
because You see… when my mother died
a hidden story became two who lied
and as years passed while I shouldn’t know
observation took notice like a blade, coming slow
" … we met in the office and were just good friends …"
there sweetly she entered in the sounds of amen!
as Our father, in mother’s last hour, had a hand.
and no silence… can ever be again
I don’t come from you.
And it’s been awaken.
at 3:43 PM