and between you and me is the world
and between you and me is a language
and between you and me is culture
and between you and me is a war
and between you and me is religion
and between you and me is a wall
and between you and me is perception
and between you and me is ourselves
have more weight
than my ghost
in my hands
full of ripe
cookies with the
Learn their language. You will
need the words
your own songs.
Let them name you:
We forget that
Laugh at their visions,
you rise anew
like the sun.
in the old neighbourhood
I had never felt more beautiful
But I am afraid now
as you stalk near.
My words are naked babies
and I must run.
Swifter beasts than me
have not survived
across the savannah.
You too struck
quick as lightning.
Do they willingly give up
their bodies and blood?
Are they all too happy
to submit to death?
I just wanted to get out alive.
I search for the true reflection.
Is it in the mirror or the camera?
Is it in a lover’s eyes or an enemy’s?
I don’t profess to stand on a pedestal,
but I stand on something,
and it seems it’s always something
that knocks me off.
And we may say, I know, I know,
for I have also been there.
I know who she is. I know, I know.
I know the problems she’s facing,
as if we are all wise men.
But it’s becoming clear
that you can only ever walk
in your own shoes.
what is sand
but the finest of glass?
and what are bones
but the finest of ash?
and you may try to crush
me down into the finest of elements,
reduce me to nothingness,
******* to the wind.
but I have a talent
for rising again,
you cannot keep me down for long.
the latitudes of freedom are not hard to measure --
though they can be difficult to achieve.
there are limited means, and a day --
dashed by uncooperative weather, the wind
outside raging like some mythical beast --
blowing the snow sideways, piling the drifts.
and so the day unfolds in the usual way,
and the night -- the foreseen sleep interrupted,
as it has been for years, and the road ahead --
while invisible still -- promises more of the same.