my relatives pocket my arrowheads;
I needed those.
the how of now slips off my collarbone;
I needed that.
remorse takes hours to run its
course; of course.
I've learned to obey sacrifice by
calling it otherwise.
it took so long to learn to
rise above the mud banks.
I'm not where I am.
words: Peter Schwartz, Maine (Sitrah Ahra)
image: Dorothee Lang, Germany (virtual notes)