of moments
you remain –
alone within my country
as one within the pounding
a legion formed
of heart
given one good reason
for words
no one could answer
a language
only I
could understand
of moments
you a prisoner
to the memory of missing
a sacred land
once charted
by your hands
of moments
would another do –
or ever be the same
a reason for belonging
once you loved
once you knew –
a story undivided
a place beyond the fight
language passed
without the fault
of sound
. . .
tornadoday 