The Color Of Pain

My mother always wore her pain on her sleeves.

Except on public holidays,

When friends and family came over.

On these days she wore them on her eyes,

At the back of her sockets.

And if you paid attention,

during the saying of grace,

or the passing round of food,

it would creep up on the edges of her eyes.

 

And so i begun to associate pain with prayers,

food and colorless fluids,

that attacked your eyes

in the presence of strangers.

 

 

 

 

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