Blood being thicker, sicklier than water
Stood there under the moon
Should so soon my lady heirloom
There have seen the bloom
She stands in the empty church
In the cold and open doorway
She sings her songs in silence
Of all who’ve passed her way
Passed her
On into the darkness
Passed on, to her
Imprints on the headstones
Passed into streams of trickled water
To doubt and fear of childless daughters
Their virgin folds stay untold; they kept
Apart more than just two families
Never to be smothered
With the love
That only a child can give
Epilepsy now nowhere near the madness
Sad that then so misunderstood, much the same
When came the manic depression
Suppressed, repossession brought the only clue
Now stand
Here in the, feel
There blows the breeze
Now stand
Here in the, listen
There goes her shadow
Now stand
Here in the...
O would that you would want me
To be misunderstood, your
Bloodlines being sicklier
And ever thicker than water
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
