This is a piece I wrote about 2 years ago, when I was living with my mother and sister. We are a beautiful family, who love and support, share and hold each other very close… but with this, some times, comes a cost of belly fire passion and the explosion of harsh tongues and venomous words. We can hurt each other more than lovers have provided us pain, or humanities sufferings… but we are family and love binds and heals… we try to let forgiveness come first.
Family fighting, a little like lightening: Energies of love clash and collide.
The moon and the tide. Enveloped in the night.
Rain drops of tears, flow freely.
The words of love, caught, stuck and said meanly.
Sown seeds of treason, the need to please them.
Holding on and letting go, trying to find a flow.
Feelings of obligation, lost in some genetic translation.
But see the mighty blow, of love and bloods ties, never really severed despite magnitudes of nights cries.
Feast your eyes upon ancestry files and note histories of attitudes, wild.
Witches of past, present, future.
Fires burning in bellies, from the first descendant born, to the current, it’s self evident.