In the fields we were boys
And girls finding debris
Gathering notes
With nothing to report
A people very inside ourselves
We found each other
Through a system of ropes and smells
What ended
Our long, stumbling days
Was a ballad version
Of the prayers we were taught in different tongues
Flashes and a rustle
From copying machines replaced
Our voices when they failed
The images we have kept
Scattered with the wind that moves all merchandise
To guard against numbness
We started small fires everywhere we went
Only when we buried our hands
In the hard soil of the valley
Did the throbbing surrounding hills
Become a part of us
