I rise firmly from the cusp
where I was born
I ruminate into a black cloud
I hide and emerge all the fiercer
I kick down walls and throw the bricks at the ones who built them
I crush rough into powder
I trample basket-shreds and unfolded paper and melted bullets
I drink milk and honey for breakfast
I vomit manna into a locked box
I sprinkle the ash of tradition into the sea
Labels: Dalia
12/24/2007 04:51:00 AM