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I could hear
Aunt Lottie crying
sometimes even when there were no tears.
Deep crying doesn't need tears - just a way
up through the embedded part of existing.
One morning even
before dawn had awakened
she found her way to my bed and stood in silence
in sleep there at the foot
where the folded Indian blanket lays.
What are you
doing? Are you OK?
I whispered softly. Her charcoal eyes opened
wide at my words and just as her spirit came
back from dreamtime she said
We are still
letting them lie to you children. |