"This is what you owe the dead."   Again and again.      Tendons stretched and strangled.    Face poured flesh from head.    A Family's ties are mengled like    mother falling out of dead.       This is what I know:    Blue faced efforts that fail to reveal the color of her shadow.       My sense caught in a stone's throw and cleaner slates that keep track of all the baggage I tow.    Scrape wisdom of the tomb.    Early morning scars from masks shed in favor of never, or is it forever?       A mourning lost to secrets I'll never erase.