Mother, my sisters hurt.
They’ve been turned into prey,
their souls abandon bodies and scream
and I hear these pleas
and I can no more.
Mother, leave me in the open field
and let all-witnessing sunset
pour its peach and grape
and wash me to the shore of night.
Let me slide into the dusk and hide.
Mother, fill me with bird songs
and gusts and whispers
and shadows and streams and branches
and marry me to the wind.
This side is too heavy to lift
for a child of love
and kindness and truth.
Mother, my sisters cry
with the ghosts of tears
but I see them.
So cover my roots with soil
as I need to stand tall
and turn the hum of infinity
into the voice
they lost.