the wind vanishes

she was but one song 
in a twilight of memories 
a chorus of feet
quickening 
clenched teeth becomes 
flood and i am but one end of the world 
sung like a severed hand 
out of the hoarse 
polyphony of unborn children 
she presses her palms 
against a hallway of reflections
and sees stars leaking 
into the sea 
rupturing 
through all ends 
today 
everyone was born again 
drowning in the tears 
of fields of dreams 
already knowing how to sing 
to motherless boars 
her eyes are glistening 
glistening 
and for the first time 
we see ourselves
seeing ourselves 
for the last time 

photo: ayman zedani, non-human-collaborators