Writing

A Warrior Child

I keep thinking she’s dead
The little girl who manages
Directs and protects
the spiritual direlects

She keeps popping up
On long drives
With the right song

After the holidays
When the dishes are clean
And the family has left

She shows up again and again
I wrestle her in fits
Insisting I don’t need her today
Not like this.

But in this ocean of tears
here she is holding me
so I will let her stay
just this once.

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