The human tribe
has hands like mine.
I cannot weigh
or give away
the things which I hold.
The human tribe
has skin like mine
for me to trace
and with this skin
impress no threat
fact of life is fact of distance
poverty lies in the space between
fact of life is fact of closeness
mystery lies in the space between us
I make sound which approaches language
make my tongue a physical one
I lose nothing in this attempt