There is an unwavering silence 

Tucked between my heart and mind

Little by little, my blood rushes in

Trying to give an erection to my thirst


How about we lick each other’s wounds

So says my silence, and build pyramids while

We are at it, a ceremony to sanctify our union

Untangle our woes into ropes with grits

That would help us climb the new heights


New seasons will fall upon us

This might quiet the wars within us

At least for a while, until the master has dined

And his uniformed men have rested their rifles 

Yet we’ll lay in our beds with our eyes peeled

To catch ourselves tumbling with their rubbles


These people 

They want to see their feet 

Breathing deep into our noses

They want our fruits and our water, to 

Toss it around on their breakfast table 


Hands shrouded in ashes of the gone

The streams still hold the blood of our people 

We are weeping with our hands on our mouths 

Matching to look at the pistol straight in the eye

Joy! Hope wasn’t meant to look us in the face

We’ll remain pleated between fear and anger

Praying to rise when the dust settles


Maybe you or maybe I 

Should begin to write ourselves alive.