but in your grey, talk about how you arrived
but when your palate splits inside the roof of your rage, talk about the moment you found breath or you found enough soil to sift through the palms of your voice and you dreamt earth
but when you feel hunted or hunt-less, storm the sky for tracks of lightening
but when you grieve, sip on oceans not spiked weep
but you can walk and you can swallow and you can bend and you can still you can still
but when you leak, pour harassed heart into another
but when you dry, find that place in your body that moans
but when you leave, draft words into blotted beams of light and let them know and let them know where you left off