May Poetry And God's Name Have Mercy

I Have Learned And Dismantled All The Words In Order To Draw From Them A Single Word: Home.

My Homeland Is Not A Suitcase, And I Am No Traveller

The Poem Is In My Hands, And Can Run Stories Through Her Hands.

I Don't Decide To Represent Anything Except Myself. But That Self Is Full Of Collective Memory.

Where Can I Free Myself Of The Homeland In My Body?