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homeland
December 22, 2019
i am nothing
of nothing
from nothing
my skin would slip through
cr ac ks in a Creator’s h a nd
i come from black ab
stract
and will cease
there
in ambiguous
finality
returned from
longing breaths
and
sharp cries to
deafening silence
there is no lineage
but the afterdeath
of stars
the inverse
the universe
the canyon between
sleep
and
wake
is the only place i call
Homeland
© Nita
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Nothing is not always barren, nor is Something always fruitful.
Lines in the sand must fade when the tide comes in.