As weathered skins grow paper thin
the weight foreshadowed
could only be for night
To hide shocked currents of contrition
Flowing from eyes drowned
By deep wells bent into bones
The sea waves salted command:
lay loss, within the land
And so the story
Of rocks stilled by souls
Grow to become faces
Forming wind whispers
By those, stranded
From a birthright to love
Too many attempt to feign
Or resign to living without
Opening up to knowing
The land offers her arms
When cold, or hard hands
Remain absent
In the violence of man
Without end to the depths
of conceit or contempt
The land
Offers a place
To break free a space again
To face the heavens and see
Our bodies remain floating
Dropped arms upon land or sea
Allows the heart to be.
Mari Amman, 2022
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