I was told while feeling sad, “tur
My heart ponders metaphors, for jo
It reaches towards Mother Nature
My heart becomes the germinating s
My soul is merely a locked door wa

Hermana, falta mucho para llegar a
El camino es largo y el presente i
¡el mañana es nuestro!
No te quedes a la vera del camino.
Sacia tus pies en este polvo etern

The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,

Tears
The crystal rags
Viscous tatters
Of a worn-through soul
Moans