I know not my name

3-I know not my name

Find me among loss,

The constant chatter

Of cold teeth braving night.

The sweat on a heaving

Mound knuckled in ripples

On pure black worn skin.

On the haunches of solitude,

Carving rhythmically a tale

Beyond the palm fronds of reality,

Out of the suffocation let free.

Into a beat infusing the circle

Of an ancestral clan stomping

The spirits out the dust of land.

From the trees of their horizon

Comes the wood I turn to

A man bearing the entirety

Of the clan he once knew

Belonged true.

Grandparents were children,

Running in scream

From the flame

Squandering a child’s hopes

from those eyes forgotten.

A figurine of the unseen.

Receding blindly

Through his purging art,

To chill him back to

The end that came-

From his beginning.

 

A figurine in a man,

Holding the distant

Hands of the land,

Lost to the land

Of a white hand.

The lone root;

I carve on.

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