even when the tightness in our throats won't pronounce it.
Our stubborn refusal ' to see ', moves in us in circles,
fearing that we might not rise again from where we collapsed,
not seize the realisation in the solitude when we fall out,
when we fall out we fall out painful from having loved.
We have lost us,
Lost us away from friends,
families
trying to be what we are, a thing that family won't let it happen.
All wé have is to turn to is what
We call our wounded animals
we carry within us to cry.
We howl our way to survive.
Hoping whatever has been torn violently apart will have stand out once more of whatever is left in Love's name.
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