The humble beginning of the fire
moves my bones as I dance,
with the wind of the East-
knitting it's fingers through me as we sway.
Now I see,
baby you needn't do it for me.
I shine brighter then what they can tolerate to see!
The Western sun shines over the poles
as I look through my fingers
and feed the sea with
the tears that tumble down - burning from the wind
Joana
Written on one those afternoons, May 2023
Comments
Post a Comment