The fur in my coat is of animal that has been killed,
Am I getting warm by somebody’s skin?
Crying at those creatures living I sing,
May they die before the world ask them to start over,
And existing is harder,
we shouldn’t be cherishing the beginnings.
I near the fireplace am a sin to myself,
As I see the flames are imitating my anger.
I feel those ashes are showing me my present,
As everything achieved is ashed and I am still burning.
Shawl my grandson kept in my lap,
Saying he got something I couldn’t understand,
Things are different than my fantasy,
I think one day I’ll be born into a different family.
Life is a circle of happenings,
You die, you spring and again you sing.
A different song, a different musing,
Sometime, it will be the lullaby for your grandbaby,
Someday, it will be your hearing,
and someday it will be you who would be hearing.