Poetry,
         Suspended moments between
    My truth and
   The truth lived.
A stillness in motion,
      A path of action like history,
Only the truth is to be it,
To walk it and ressurect it
In the words.
     I am in my body
Knowing myself outside
In a sea of pages.
    My poetry scatters,
The ghosts remain:
      Poetry is a shared fury,
      A shared oblivion,
      My sorrowful song
Hidden deep in my Mother's womb
The unspoken part of my birth,
     Retracing the lineage
Between seeing and believing,
    Writing the constellated persons,
A torrent of memory,
A melody of love,
I close my eyes
     And the words of my blood,
Footsteps of my words,
     My pen covered in a quarter moon
Translucent like a fountain of night,
     Poem that travels through me,
Scatters into the ink,
    Words spoken
Reverberating quietly into eternal
        Whispers.