What would have happened
If you hadn’t burned down
The soil that you raged and rested on?
Would it have been easier for me to move?
Would I have felt my own body?
Wouldn’t your words have overwritten my own texture?
Overruled my gestures, would I have existed
And lived outside of your dictation?
I was a cloud when I should have been the tempest.
I cried when I should have yelled.
I smiled when I despaired.
You tore out one brick after the other
And told me that I should be a fortress
Whilst your hands ruined me
And I was forced to find shelter amongst the bricks you stole
My own within you, aggrandised and reinforced,
Integrated, your fortress,
And I lost faith in the holiness of my abandoned and revisited ruins
As I trusted ancestral hands instead of my own body.
Croque-Melpomene 