Unlearn what you know of history
Climb atop the highest eldest tree
And read the palms of its leaves,
Then Shamelessly sing aloud
they told you not to sing,
Listen to the stories of souls as they make their home in the spaces of your mind, you were never allowed to go
they speak through shrieks of sparrows
streaking through clouds,
speak through the sound of those clouds breaking,
low as the growl
of the darkest streets in Brooklyn the concrete aching
praying for morning,
Then eternally waiting,
They speak through the silence
of flowers living in pots,
resuscitating the bedroom of stale burnt air through dirty half closed windows
cumulus clouds of smoke
Remembering that we were never children.
Then just ly down there..
Until you feel that "feeling".....
Tonight is dreamless
screaming in the unheard language of origin,
I am here