Unwinding comes upon you.
Out here, your ******* mute the flatness as they rise ungathered....
Breathing for the first time
Silence.
You can't imagine South Africa
You vaguely recall your white brothers
herding your black brothers
into Desperate quarters.
Building separate but disheveled lives
According to the color of their Skin-
Beating your black sisters down
and out of their bodies
To become statistics, to become stains...
To become a dream
you are having in the desert.
Dissolving comes upon you.
Out here, your eyes feed
they fall over the the vast undisturbed evidence
Of God's womanhood, rejuvenating your actuality...

Populating yourself with your Self.

For the first time.
Silence.

And you can't imagine America.
Who can? With it's sweet liberty
And pill grim's pride
Eclipsing every mountainside with billboards
Bright and Wide-
Pointing the way to the next city
you can't find a job in, because you're too old, or too gay
Or too real...
Too bad.
That flag has fifty stars. No Light.
You partially grasp a diluted vision
of having a vision,
replete with Ideals, Shadow Governments and Human Rights but...
Slowly, all that's fading now, to become poetry
To become headlines, to become a dream-
You are having in the desert.
And out here, there are Indians
holding onto something Intangible-
Like deep purple and stray dogs.
Babies being born and weaned on Truth.
And you For the last time

Silence.