Blood-Bound Sing Song

My grandmother had a poem she

Would often-times repeat to me

“By your year of thirty and three, the world will become dead to thee.”

On into the night, she’d go

At my bedside; candles low

Her sing-song poem only known

By the two of us

Her voice was raspy, her tone was true, she sang,

“They’ll wonder what became of you

after you reach thirty and two…

Now, sleep, my lil one.

Tell no one of our song

For, not one would believe.

Imagine the pain that you might cause

Should  you cause upset to me.”

Then, Grandmother would blow out the light

And Darkness would abound

My chest was tight

As I’d struggle against

The thing that had me bound

I’d scream all night inside myself

Till morning’s light was found


Years came and went, so quickly it seems

As I lived my life

Still bound by Grandmother’s curse to me

I was a good woman, mother and wife

Till came a day, the last day of

My life, year twenty and nine

A wish was granted me

On that day

When Grandmother was doomed to die

The call went out with the chill of the evening

That Grandmother had fallen ill

Along with the others I ran to the place

Where her body grew more still than still

I could not help but watch the clock

On this eve when I’d turn thirty and aught

Could it be that I’d been blood bought

And she would go away

On and on I watched, you see

Until eleven twenty three

When her breath grew shallow

Her skin went pale

And her heart refused to beat

As I stood by, holding her hand

Amongst her family and a few close friends

I could not help but smile

As those around me cried tears of sorrow

I knew that I’d now have tomorrow

And the Shadow she’d cast over me

Was blown into eternity

And, when my time became thirty and three

I’d live to see the dawn

I am now fifty and one

And, till now, have told no single soul

Of the sing-song poem that Grandmother sang to me

Oh, so long ago


‘Blood by blood, until it sleeps,

a promise made is one to keep.’







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