Can a Wall Street refugee find peace in a hut by the sea?
How do you grieve being born into an army?
Praise for the beings in my life.
There’s a river running through us, every time we drink and pee. It carries shame, blood, joy, songs.Bats cut the badlands sky.
A traditional man softens. Who gets to cry? Who gets to weave?
Another man steps into the ocean and forgets himself. He comes back with nothing.
But what’s that he’s offering to the being who sent him in?
The waters are rising. Step in.
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