I have no recollection of sun-long walls that claim the east
and no mention of towers or Taj’s or pyramid tombs where the ancient
in love lay sleeping.
i know nothing of these high places beyond my gardens of books,
my lyrics and words.
but on some nights i can’t sleep i see them–
tears fall from
the boabab forest which kept my footprints
golden circles in the land of ice
lycabettus hill where i lay with freedom
of seeing all
of knowing the world of my birthright
and fighting when they slipped it from my mind

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