i will miss the drums of the flickers…
at this time of the morning glory who sing sturdy
despite brittle, scorched shrubbery amidst them
i too will leave this place as they lessen
their grip far sooner than autumn…
i linger with low mourning as to why
i cannot sing with them because i am
fixed numb with bewilderment…
complete bafflement way frozen…
i cry be-side my drummers of kin…
who have called me to restiveness day after day
since the time we have lived in this house
of fraudulent impression… split-community, no-pride.
why oh why…why please why…
did it have to happen that i... my own kith and kin
were battered with such potent hatred of
who we are… we, only different from them?
the strength i know now is i will sing again and again
with the gold drummers who fly with me...
wherever i go...
by weaver x (((o))) © 2004