Scatter the ashes
By Yutka
Tue, 27 Nov 2018
- 794 reads
2 comments
I am unstoppable, in a burst
of light I am forced out
to be put in place.
The wind speaks its language,
old idioms never to touch,
but their contours dying not far away,
around a corner, up a hill,
the AWOL-gone sky,
while the ancestors mutter
in different tongues.
Old border words trash
this corrie, the ashes in the valley.
Why should I descend
into its capillaries,
explore boundaries?
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