Anana The Star - Lincoln Park Zoo

Poem By Ima Ryma

Our exile fading
is our language fading.
Zhilvin, oh Zhilvin please:
there's no colour to the breaking foam.

There's no way to measure the blood,
just no way to dole out the pain.
Zhilvin, oh Zhilvin please:
what is it you settle on?

'What is given? What is chosen?'
'Earth given. Death chosen.'

'What is given? What is chosen?'
'Nothing given, with nothing to choose from.'

The foam withdraws into myth.
Zhilvin, oh Zhilvin ayee!
That's all that was given,
all there was ever to be.

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I never loved the earth.
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In Mourning

Right at seven that morning
right then at seven a.m.
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Here's one place torture broke down.
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