we come home on the back of a camel though we rode out astride the fastest stallion there were days of choice-making we seemed to be the ones we were accountalbe for and then like a vacation movie the retrospective said nothing about how we planned to belnd our otherness or how day after day the others known as kin helped themselves to our flesh and blood now piled into this
great mound of details stuck together
with the dirt of our longing for something
ours, something quiet this sign pounded into it’s
top:Mothers Lie Here their newborn
selves could not survive.
in small letters further explanation:
it was the end of ego, the beginning of love