The waters of friendship V the blood of La famiia

I swim in the waters of friendship,

 letting their kindness wash over me,

drinking the praise, eating the memories,

exquisite morsels that I keep in a trinket box beside my bed-

 la Familia

What a bun fight at every Christmas,

missed birthdays and never a call when I need you,

 la Familia

But still that blood it sticks

I find puddles in my kitchen,

drops in the trinket box,

tangled in my hair, smeared on the walls of my soul

then sometimes,

the twain meet 

Gentle rivers meet the oceans on a quiet day,

fresh water swirling into briny waves...la Familia...salt and light

H20 meets plasma, night kisses day and sometimes the two become one.

But not for long, la Familia with swords drawn,

duels at dawn, bloody mess and mothers cry wet tears 

as the clouds pull the ocean away from the river,

memories wash out to sea and friends don't look back.

Blood is no longer thicker than the waters that have become as bitter as Mara,

while friends drink wine, white as the moon itself.

A cup of friendship, the chalice of la Familia, a communion, a seal, ashes on the footpath,

steps lost in the forest.

Friends for a day...

la Familia forever.



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