that day
nine months ago
when you held my hand
in the sand
and my dress blew
with your hair
and with the waves
is an echo now.
the echo is deafening
and rings in my ears
and in the back of my mind
and it keeps me
stuck on a fishing line
dangling dangerously,
delicately,
precariously,
above a raging fire
clinging to you.

always
recorded my love
messages
coz
one day
the whole world
may reject you
then
can read those
and feel
once
this world also
loved me...

So you hurl that at me:
the expletive called Truth;
But you were silent
when they peddled their
narratives
Yes it must be like this -
Truth must have
leafy shades of the Left.
When they ******
it's rebellion and rightful;
When they dissent
it is but lawful;
If they break my bones,
break my temple to house,
their dogmas,
burn me down in sleep,
I deserved it: pagan
and worthless that I am,
whose belief must deserve
denigration.
But you were silent
and did not hurl
this expletive called Truth -
The meek the broken the oppressed,
when they resist
It's then that they hurl
This expletive called Truth

Do not
give me a dream.

I will return my name.

There was no arrival
for me. Like wintergreen.

No ending,
no point, no tip.

A continuum
of space, time
and pain.

A stream on blackstone
flowing after the hail,
pellets of frozen tears.