until all of…

knees go black
pain feeds off more pain
tears become salt in our mouths
time gets weary of counting our sins
nature cannot withstand our weight
until what’s shattered begins to piece their way
and we don’t know where to begin

of what use is a voice not heard
a hand not held and used to hold
a woman not drunk and in love
a rainfall not gaily danced in?

I’d wear silhouettes of freedom
with an ace up my sleeve
I’d be the manna that doesn’t fall
the glowing sunlight that doesn’t burn
Maradona, a hand of God.

Tomide Abdul and Vera

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