Who am I to say to you what I say to you? when I'm not a stone burnished by water to become a face or a reed punctured by wind to become a flute . . . I'm a dice player I win some and lose some just like you or a little less . . . Not a role I played in what I have become If this farm hadn’t been ravaged Maybe… I would’ve turned into an olive Or a professor of geography Or an expert in an ant colony Or a guardian of echoes Who am I to tell you this I was rewarded more awakenings Not to relish my moony nights But…to witness the butchering