You look at me as only a face
A weakness, caught mute behind a smile
Deaf to the humming inside me
That shakes with the noisiest silence
In the form of a life, a thought, a hope, a desire
A song you have known
Perhaps forgotten, forced to ignore
This vibration is not only inside me
But a tremor running through all our fault lines

You walk past me down cold streets
As if maddened, a fear
In your eyes
Repeating what has been recited
An instruction, an ideal, a myth
I then transform…into
A stranger, a wanderer
Walking towards you
That is when the weather
Takes my song away
The storm strangles me
In this street, my street
Full of wind and gusts

Is it that you are bored of peace?
That you must rebuild, rename, revert
Without regard and respect of sovereignty
And soul, the soil we share
To reshape me, erase me, regardless
Of our old roots that once intertwined
Peace to you is just someone’s else’s prize to own
And me, with only my hands
To shape the outlines of life 
Humane, our humanity, our blood and bone

Can’t you hear me at work?
While you treat me with this suspicion
Grown inside your gut
I sculpt 
Asking only that you look at
The art of our likeness.