Azira

Why beseech the mothers, set afire their wooden frames, steal our way home, cotton, gold and spices, what games we play, the infinite knots to splice, sunlight rings with drums, we return the people’s hail, these islands of sweet summer, to settle here or fly, draw away from this place, a seething nest of lies , leave this port for others, inscribe it with our name our names on bloody visits, it’s the reason why, we forage the Spanish Main, our troubles turn to light, we won’t forget to smother, a life in joyous phases, a careworn cache of lovers, dance among our graves.