Unknown

How did the sculptor know

There’s a woman hidden in the stone 

There’s a life,  yet to be born

?

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Where My Roots Disappear

Here lies a dream

In papers drowned by ink

Things,  even if you steel, you can never take away from me

Land I forget,  before I remember

Places where I used to belong

Earth that smelled much like I

There I lay

And awake I see

There can be another me

Immigrant in this earth but free

.

.

(Was turning dark so I had to turn around)