I have taken all parts you have given:
your small brown feet and your mastery of words, the way you danced and the way you fed those you loved, adding salt to the molcajete, adding prayer to the skies: I practice every day, come good, come bad. come a revolt of words: i show my face

LThe world, a prison vast and wide,
Where restless souls are locked inside.
A gilded cage for just a few,
But chains and darkness for the crew.

Stress and hunger stain the air,
Poverty whispers in despair.
Silent cries of slavery’s weight,
Some rebel, but meet the same fate.

A few break free, or so they say,
Yet find new walls along the way.
Only the rare with patient breath,
Embrace the sentence until death.

For they await, with hearts at peace,
The higher realm where chains release.

Coriander on a small rotating counter rack
    Left foot first with a smile
         Unless there is a fire in which case get the
Emergency fire extinguisher and try to put the
Simmering fire of such a young girl's
c
l
u
e
l
e
s
s
n
e
s
s  omewhere where it does not hurt

watching you
again
walking away
run
run
to her
and so
please
stop
talking like
you’re
coming back

there was
a turn
today
when my love
began
to decay

An aching song
replaces the windful soul
of branches clanking on
to rhythms growing old-
-
the residue
of explosive tunes
drowns out the view
of old- now new.
-
there’s so much red in the sunset
so much red in the onset
so much red in the eyelids
so many tears still falling,
there’s not much green in the audience,
much more green in faucet
hidden green in the closet
too many tears still falling.
-
white hills with wheels
made of steel and fear
look to **** and steal
while the white hills men cheer.
-
gold dripping water
from self righteous fathers
get stored far from the thirsty
so they can gain and barter.
-
there’s no way to heal everyone
unless we become many ones,
reaching out to hold the youth
from plummeting into a deadly sun.
there aren’t many ones,
yet far too many anyones-
ghosts too selfish to lift a finger
or gain souls to breathe a helpful song.
-
when will good will
and will power will
something more than death
over every hill?
when will good will
and will power will
something innocent
instead of thrilling kills?
when will good will
and will power will
something truly good
to be a hearty fill?
when will good will
and will power’s will
be enough to keep us pure
enough to love still?