Earth Scrapes Us -
I. EARTH SCRAPES US
Earth scrapes us, pressing us into the last narrow passage, we have to dismember ourselves to pass,
Earth squeezes us. Wish we were its wheat, to die and live again. Wish it were our mother,
Our mother would be merciful to us. Wish we were images of stones that our dreams carry
Like mirrors. We have seen the faces of those who will be killed defending the soul to the last one of us.
We wept for the birthday of their children. We have seen the faces of those who will throw
Our children from the windows of this last space of ours. Mirrors that our star will paste together.
Where shall we go, after the last frontier? Where will birds be flying, after the last sky?
Where will plants find a place to rest, after the last expanse of air?
We will write our names in crimson vapor.
We will cut off the hand of song, so that our flesh can complete the song.
Here we will die. Here in the last narrow passage. Or here our blood will plant — its olive trees.
Earth scrapes us, pressing us into the last narrow passage, we have to dismember ourselves to pass,
Earth squeezes us. Wish we were its wheat, to die and live again. Wish it were our mother,
Our mother would be merciful to us. Wish we were images of stones that our dreams carry
Like mirrors. We have seen the faces of those who will be killed defending the soul to the last one of us.
We wept for the birthday of their children. We have seen the faces of those who will throw
Our children from the windows of this last space of ours. Mirrors that our star will paste together.
Where shall we go, after the last frontier? Where will birds be flying, after the last sky?
Where will plants find a place to rest, after the last expanse of air?
We will write our names in crimson vapor.
We will cut off the hand of song, so that our flesh can complete the song.
Here we will die. Here in the last narrow passage. Or here our blood will plant — its olive trees.
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