They were my shield,
in the event of catastrophe;
They promised;
Withheld sick promises;
Beat black the more sensitive child;
He felt more than his sisters,
sacrificing for their sanctuary;
In small lit passages he prayed,
in the dark thick hum of bedtime;
As my mother shut out the light,
beneath the summer sheets,
I sang private congregations;
A magical boy mind,
heard Cicadas like choirs,
taming frowns that sank my spirit;
