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Do we own the land, or does it own us?

Poem: “My Cry is Lost in a Name”

Propelled in giving me damned names
They gave me unknowing roots
White with jewels of nakedness
Sights-silenced then demanded to catch shadows travelling aware in innocence
But as mixed up in trickery of my free roots
I found myself sucked by seed
I felt dressed in native trees
Then having urgency to wipe away white values I drunk healthyness
I learned more about my ended Shakespeare name coming back the snakes began attacking
Spears came travelling in my thighs leaving me
Rejuvenated  
No more my damned name.


Lionel Fogarty, “My Cry is Lost in a Name

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