
Part of my poetry collection, Margins of the First Draft—in some of the literature I read a lot as a teen, the theme of praying to a god or a mother was quite strong. I borrowed that idea; it wasn’t mine. The words are though.
14. Her heart was eating her alive
Oh God, oh Mother, I pray to thee
Please
Help me
Poetry on the Margins #14 Aftermath
Why does it seem, in times like these,
that to love
is to die?
I still think
that the ability to love another is a gift,
and the ability to love once more
is even more of a gift.
And to love for a decade, or two —
is even a bigger gift.
Love transforms us.
It truly does.
For love doesn't just come in “one size fits all” —
and sometimes, it does
hurt a little.

There's more of my work:
If you like short stories I have them scooped up into one category (including the six-sentence stories).
Or maybe you prefer poetry,, more personal entries can be found at the Blog.
There's also the IT studies blog in Estonian and "Chaos in Spring" on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.

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