Sister, We are the Sea in the New Land

Take a breath, and
back to where you were,
to the molten water
you told me.
My heart is becoming freezing air
And the lungs are heavy anchors, brimmed with stones and sand
and resentment
I clutch at your ankle, my baby sister,
But once again I am cast adrift
coil like a lost eel the one you crashed with your bare feet

We no longer swim
since you taught me how to
float, holding my breath
for the longest time
in search
in transit
And we both died a little, the first time
we crawled into the torched land
as new species

Didn’t you know? There is no more new land
Everything has been touched
And everything touched me have moved me
away from the blessed unknown
from the forgiveness
Didn’t you know?
Everything can be God, and only us
can be us

Take a breath, and
FIRE!
You commanded in a low voice, sitting in the lighted house
our home, built of sand and waves
Unlike you, I despise the violence of
survival
My worries were without aim
but the first smell of the burning
the burning of mourning, on the last celebration day
my hatred of the strange land
is a stillborn yearning
for your love

We have always been two kinds of seeds
cannot be sowed in the same vineyard
Your soft tongue is sunbaked
has a taste of the pain I fed you
Mine is always pronouncing old names
Your name
can never be matched with phonetic symbols
You, my sister
the inhabitant from the conqueror
the bronze serpent.

Take a breath,
my sister
we will die here in the strange land
me as a foreign creature with limp ribs
you, a me in waiting
in search
in transit
we will die here in the strange land
fall like two defiled fruits