She dead

Intro:  A little girl sat on the lap of a woman who might be her aunt or her mother one evening as I rode home on the subway.  A look in her eyes, the smile on her face, the moment.

I want to speak to this from a child’s memory from a time decades before the moment.

My Aunt Annie, dead many years now, but loved in spite of time gone by.

I want to be the child on her lap bringing a smile to her face. I want to hold her hand as I walk to school safe in the knowledge I am her primary concern. I want to be the person she cares for in the world.

Will she lay down her life for me?  Take on the demons arriving embodied in officials who come to dictate the laws?

I want this like a baby wants to be suckled.  What I want matters little now, oh these many years later.

She dead.

Back then her braid hung long down her back past her shoulder blades, past the curves of a waist no longer held.  She, the woman holding me forward, holding me still in the face of pain, she strengthening me.

She dead.

Dead to the world moved on without her.

The black and white world filled with time and space.  Her arms no longer keeping me tight ‘cuz she dead like the looks in the eyes of those with unknown paths ahead.

She dead to this world and that.

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