Like Chomsky and Foucault
Could I sleep well under it’s weight?
What if every thought was a patchwork?
All my ancestor carry the edges and cradle me into hope?
What if our medicines were our favorite outfit?
The one that makes us feel amazing,
The suit of real us.
What if our listening was the gallery?
The place where you and I and we made beauty until the circle healed?
What if our beauty danced?
From paint to brush
To body and voice?
Maybe like Chomsky and Foucault
Our conversation will echo through those caves,
The fires,
Rousing
Deep times
Deep knowing
Deep roots?
We need you
You are the we
You are the all.
Pehiw Hibernation 2021
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