How Solitary Is The Moon

The shadow of a cage is too an imprisonment
I continue to become the shadow of my clothing
My hands become a part of others
The mud is now lorn
Why did the river travel on its own to the sea?
How solitary, the act of choice

Severed, I am severed from those who die
And I wake arising in the fires
I am reverberating in the stones
I am drowning in the mud, wondering which tree ahead lies

My sorrows; thy name is child
In my hands, toys in pieces
In my eyes, humanity
A multitude of bodies are asking me for eyes
I do not know where my own beginning is

The skies are younger than I
Flight does not require a landing
Whose voice do hands represent?
You will have to live with my lies

When you enter the jungle and free the birds
The lantern gets a taste of fire

I hang clothes out to dry on the roof of my person
Within my distance lies an eye
I dress myself in my pain
I, she who dresses herself in garb of fire
Should I tell you the name of my shade?
To you I give the moons of every single night.

HOW SOLITARY IS THE MOON