RITUAL.

As the sun sweats the sky
Feet slap baked ground
Clouds dissipate into
The souls of our brothers and sisters
We lean against filed wood;
Thump the ground;
Make the dust fly;
Liberate our beating hearts.
Cold sleep gives a new start
Before we roam these fair hills
Into our oblivion.

“Never forget us.”
Mother tongues hope, grasp
At the fragmented strings
Which bind us.

“I am your everything.
There will be no other.”
I know his and I weep
Before the rushing, rising gloom ahead.

#365DaysOfPoetry