Originally penned/published: November 19, 2012
Offer me nothing,
I need no gifts.
I am a barrel of wax now.
Hardened by persistent wisdom, neediness which once made me cringe, by the plethora of morning dazes that end
in a bowl of oatmeal, lukewarm and alone.
I have been sitting
in this den of birds amid the cacophony of my own silence and their senseless chirping.
The right amount of this on any given day would turn a fine person crazy.
But I have become a barrel of wax.
Hardened, for the strength that the future will require,
For my children, not yet born, perhaps never born, perhaps
For someone else’s.
“bear in mind alternate sources of motherhood”
bear in your belly: nothing.
For I am a barrel of wax now
No trick candle to light, no wick even visible.
‘cept to the vastly trained eye,
Am a barrel of wax.
Need no fuel but mine own,
Need no love but the sun,
Need no crimson for to fashion this world into pretty
For a barrel of wax is nothing but eyes
And a barrel of wax has no need for a deity.