I am your caged sunsets
And melting grey snows,
Your sick, soaring highways
And thin, flightless crows;
/
I am your pale faces,
And ever-rushing feet;
I am your gas shackles,
Your old madman’s grip;
/
I’m the shallow breath feeding
Your collapsing lungs;
I am your heart pumping
Cold blood in black lumps;
/
I’m the unwilling heiress
To your granite grandeur,
To your history’s jewels,
Its demons and debts;
/
Your prodigal daughter is back –
Let me in!
I tried to run from you,
But how,
When I’m your kin?
