Amongst the dead, I'm home.
The many fires I started as a child
have long gone out.
Inside the womb I heard them speak about.
Before the warning came, I felt the light.
Swimming true before I could, I had no choice.
Stripes of red and blue came with a heavy cost.
Hence from whence I came and now I'm lost.
Not knowing who they were, they made no sound.
Lumps of clay that smelled of loam and earth.
So in speaking, here they spoke.
Waiting, waiting, wait, such volumes spoke.
The dead retired to sleep without a voice.
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