We Was Robbed
Stephanie Arwen Lynch
My mother swore that my cowlick life
Pressing against the way things go
Would deliver her into GodŽs hand
Crying for His mercy from my sins
Pointing that forefinger sheŽd shake
Holding back those guttural belly
Laughs like only my mother could give
Parched my essence lies drying
Like handmade jerky cut too thin
Slices of pain missing her
And I am awestruck in her memory
Realizing my wild cowlick life
Tribute to the power of her love