“what would I write if no one could see
I would write that I blame my mother
and then I would write that I was justified”
By Guna Moran
Mother
Bless me to turn into dust
Would stay stuck to both your feet every day
Mother
Bless me to be your teardrops
Would glitter in your eyes in times of joy and sorrow
By Guna Moran
A rock can only be made smaller
By beating and hitting
Can never be made larger
Rocks are generally homeless
They lay everywhere