Pocket Meditation

I am a little girl

kicking suns

I am an old woman

sitting in a pool of laughs

I am the sun

coming up every day

to harden your heart

There’s a call to arms

in all our red glass mouths

white hot dripping glass

blown by some kind of

angelic thing

Solidifying

in the shape of

a call to arms

in all our red glass mouths

Sometimes mothers don’t love their children

Sometimes the sun is not here to warm us

Sometimes you kick whatever you can

Sometimes you find a warm seed

inside your chest glowing

brighter each time you kick

Sometimes you remember

our mothers felt us all kick

and they glowed.

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