The Passover

Standing in the face of uncertainty

with kola and oti,

singing, ‘pass me not’

to the gentle ones.

throwing shells and chains like


while Grandma and Nem

behind me like


the whirlwind surrounding me

aint all chaotic,


you mean me no good?

spit and dirt.

water and earth.

fire and air.

render me powerful

as the Ancient Ones hear

the bells, the song, the drum

and come

swiftly to the aid of those who

remember to remember.

we wrestle against flesh

and blood



in high and low places.

tucked in foliage-covered spaces,

hear our voices,

come in like the fog

and wipe away clean

our troubles

our sorrows





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