Death Of Dreams

Death Of Dreams                                                                                                                                                               Mama’s Poem

Written By Michael Guinn
She moaned for a moment, silently kicking against the weight of an innocent tree,  
before slowly succumbing to the beckoning of the Lord's light, 
My mama died today...
Fragile like a small bird, yet to become complete
left dangling in the wind like a forgotten piece of meat.
That rope… wrapped tightly around her until the strangling sounds became a soft
gurgle, and then ….no more. And, even though no one else could see or hear or feel it  I saw death envelop her moments before she drew her last breath.
It reached out, from that dark place, where souls go, climbed limb by limb till it’s
obedient assassin of rope enmeshed itself around her neck, and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.
The part of her that once sang for joy, despite the woes of bondage
now looked hideously stretched to fit the magnitude of hatred running rampant
through the land. 
The eyes that once danced with life, as she’d whisper stories to us in the night
about places, we may never see, or things we would never do, except on the wings of her dreams.  Now bulged out like black pearls, staring, yet never again to see.
My mama died today
And in that same instant, gone were the meaning and 
reasons that had given substance to the ill-logic of being born in a place and time in which being hated and hunted was a way of life. 
Gone were the arms that held me, when no one was looking, the lips that brushed myforehead with kisses when I was afraid, and the soft voice that
comforted me when the night riders became the ghosts in my dreams and the reality of my days.   
My mama died today.
Leaving me gasping for knowledge,
longing for the wisdom I would need to survive.
And although weak and afraid, I knew that no matter what,
I could not crumble beneath the weight of what was to come,
No matter what! I could not afford to lose my way , existing in this skin, in this time... so far away from home.
Because my mama died today
And as pain erupted like ten thousand volcanoes beneath my skin
I knew in that moment …..That I ………would never climb trees again.