Excessive Things

Within my stream of consciousness,
just a single word
already feels like too much.

I was the first and only son, and yet
I found myself as a daughter, seated at the very back
at your funeral.
The flames that consumed your body felt so distant
that to me, they were cold.

I am a displaced wanderer,
and you are the homeland.
The dust does not merely cling to my shoes
it is my soles, my flesh, inseparable from me.

(Excerpt from 31 Thoughts Throughout July)

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