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