Disfigured by winter’s scars,
dry lips, they bleed while cracking.
Bone-dry skin kept hands
engaged with scratching.
Words, they crawl,
defrosting the mouth,
while the bouquet of flowers
do their spring-cleaning
The claws,
no match were they for patience tapping
that when they’d loosened up,
pachyderms would troop into the room.
Suppression fought tooth and nails
to delay eviction,
how big, the world, seasoned people had forgotten.
It’s the same bright world
that houses big brother’s game,
you claw your way out until you restore your name.
It’s the same wide world where drifters leave home
to find another home.
No picture will be bigger than
the frame with our families.
No perspectives shall be smaller than
the edges between our eyes
No matter how deep,not even claws
can get a grip on the
marks they leave in our lives.
It is separation that tells us
how people have touched our lives
JY
24/10/2013
Janalism 