We Was Robbed
Stephanie Arwen Lynch
My mother swore that my cowlick life
Pressing against the way things go
Would deliver her into God´s hand
Crying for His mercy from my sins
Pointing that forefinger she´d shake
Holding back those guttural belly
Laughs like only my mother could give
Parched my essence lies drying
Like handmade jerky cut too thin
Slices of pain missing her
And I am awestruck in her memory
Realizing my wild cowlick life
Tribute to the power of her love