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onceIknew

stories now
my daddy tells
of times before the better
took us by surprise
and shut our soul
of red clay paths
and old tin lines –
mary heaven
showed us
the ways to home
was not so far
to go

no ringing
of the latest news
no clamor to achieve
candles burned
beside
the feather bed
children wrapped
in babies
held as one to one
blessings come
– wherever
prayers were said

no looking back
or leaving long
another chance –
for nothing
would shake our faith
or move the least
to fall
dirty hands
so tender –
eyes caressed the light
dreams just big
enough –
to hold us all

. . .