Read it Live
dedicated to promoting budding poets, writers and bloggers

Mahey, Qurat & I

Blood of my blood,

You are too precious,

A thousand days

Younger,

And blooming

In this moment.

Blood of my blood,

To see you

Is to see Love,

And what are we,

Or them,

Or all the powers

Of the heavens

And of this earth

And all that lies

In between

And in the beyond,

What are they

And us

In the face of this Love?

In the face of you?

Blood of my blood,

Love is to see you,

Four years old,

Wearing the color red,

Sleeping in pain,

And Love is for me

And for her

To walk to you,

And steal a kiss,

A kiss to seize all

Weakness from you,

A kiss to empower

Your labored breath,

And give you

Your feet back,

So you,

Four years old

Can dance and twirl

And sing.

Blood of my blood,

Love is to see you,

Nine years old

With an ancient woman

Trapped in your chest,

And Love is to hear you

Speak of your travels

To the Orient and

Beyond

With a sparkle in your eye.

Blood of my blood,

Love is to see you,

A day old,

A month old,

A year,

Two years,

Nineteen years.

Love is to see you

Hold a pen

And write,

A singular action

Reflecting our whole

Universe.

Blood of my blood,

My precious one,

Love is you,

Love is her,

Love is me,

Love is three little girls

Who laugh and who cry

In each others’ arms.

Love is three young women

Who dare to dream,

Who dare to write,

Who dare to say,

We will survive this,

The white beating hail

And the biting dust storm,

We will survive this,

Come what may.

Blood of my blood,

Dearest to my heart,

Love is your smile,

And your voice,

And your little dancing feet,

And the hurt in your eyes,

Fighting with

The control in your voice.

Love is us,

Holding hands

As all else crumbles.

Blood of my blood,

Love is every drop

That drips from your veins,

Love is every drop

That drips from your eyes,

Love is the double-edged dagger

That cuts her,

As it cuts me

When it cuts you.