PoetrySad Poems

I’m Hearing

Her voice is a vacuum,
Her tears dry in sickness.
She is saying to me,
“My feelings are dry bones
A wind of life can’t raise
My heart is a deep hole
No man can reach it’s ending.”

At night,
She paused.
In her dry eyes,
She mourns.
Sharply she says, “My skirt is a paper
It flies in every direction
I kneel down for every man
My heart barks without a name.”

Without her front teeth,
She smiles.
From his beatings,
Her eyes are red.
Only her voice,
Tells it all,
Damage hides in her.

She is saying to me
“For my children
HIV/AIDS is just a name
I kneel on trucks
And, stand on trees
Beer is my eraser
I don’t have a memory
But I have a story to tell.”

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