sometimes Nina Simone sings
the depth of her music
stretched over water over land
i can listen to her today
because what happened then
was already withheld within her broken beauty
she still sings from the future
a symbol strong enough
to enter catastrophic time
in the belly of my wounded being
the parched ground shakes
miniature deaths falling into my useless words
burning my eyes with speechless prophecies
sing with me now
with what of the true remains
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