This Bitter Language

“I know your streets, sweet city,

I know the demons and angels that flock and roost in your boughs like birds.

I know you, river, as if you flowed through my heart.

I am your warrior daughter.

There are letters made of your body as a fountain is made of water.

There are languages of which you are the blueprint and as we speak them the city rises.”

Elka Cloke

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s