there is a forgotten life inside this aging skin
fragmented memories of an ancient epoch
ancestral reinventions laced in lost stories
our flesh matters less than the words we leave behind
the lyrics endure; a griot’s invocation
the deluge of stories return to our waiting tongue
words become anthropomorphic things
with breath and soul; with dance and song
inhaling and exhaling for us
onto paper, onto stone, inside clouds that form ideas
and rain; i am re-fleshing the dusty bones of forgotten worlds
with words; forgotten words
remembered sound inside this aging skin
needing words; needing lost yesterdays
