Telling the wind I surrender

He thought he killed her. Her lifeless body was dead long before the knife severed her artery. She existed. He couldn't kill what was not alive. The child she bore, one of many. Sustained by hatred. Her offspring fed on pith. In between those sweetened moments of charity. The human kindness coaxed by desperation. The beggars folly. The branches that fruit. The branches that wither. The turn of events satisfying the eternal unknown. The temporary blindness that occurs in initial darkness. In the beginning...


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96