There is a place where
you have no agency
no voice
where your tears
fall from sky
your anger clashes
between dark clouds
lightning the truth
you cannot form in your mouth.
A time when your name
will be held in prison
the history others will tell
leaving out what they don’t wish
to know or don’t want others
to know.
Your art and music
will be played from others’
points of view
their prejudices
selecting the words they choose
to prove themselves right.
See?
And you will blossom
as a lilac flower
mute, fragile
whispering in the morning
love loves life
loves the children of your grandchildren
the eggs of your chickens
the stories of owls and jays
as long as earth remains fecund
you shall live here
in memory
your cells decomposed
into nutrients you cannot name.
You have lost your voice
and must let nature take it
from here.
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