Lie

I don’t know…

I’m dying a little inside.

But don’t we all, sometimes

All I can keep doing

Is bringing myself tea

In china cups with saucers

And light candles

And pray

And tend to myself

As if I was really dying

And needed my last hours

To be gentle

And quiet

And refined

And I should

Soak and wash my feet

In preparation

- laying in wait

…

I realized that in Christmas

Were all my hopes

And where my hopes had been born.