Ellipsis:
the earth from its depth, we greet you;
waters of the running deserts,
songs of farewells on eyelids,
echoes that name fears and shadows.
Those who forsake their features
to leave their eyes behind,
we greet you when you leave the earth,
we greet you when you return.
The pap-seller-of-heaven does not forget you—
he fetches you your garment, you flit;
he fetches you your paraphernalia, you concede.
We do not leave the hoe to them, we leave the blade;
we do not leave the grasses, we leave the roofing
water does not shed from our eyes —
we shed iron and bullets, we shed fertile lands.
Those who now speak to the wind in secrets,
how do you make the leaves wave?
You are as near to us as our breath and bones;
you stalk our silence to steal our pains.
How shall we name your absence?
We will build anew home from heated clay,
carve out of shining wood for adornments;
we will pay your visits to kinsmen
and feed your eyes with nectar.
There will be salt and honey and beancakes,
your garden tended to, your shrine consulted,
for home you leave behind is as strong as grief.
And when you come again as a bird
or as an abstract looking on from the din,
you will meet us well, you will in peace
and greet us as a stranger we won't recognise.
Cc: @chidera
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