"i'll send my blessing my dear"

    as i speak, my voice cracks
my hands are too busy cutting
his teeth. to save the soul, even
if it's dead. to heal the wounded,
I must take the teeth. shaking
like a branch on a raw November
night, the knife slips.

" I said I will send my blessings,
you shall now leave before the 
trees fall asleep and no one 
can show you the way"