Life is short-lived,
I sit against myself,
And wonder exactly what is?
Here In this town's square,
I stare at a stone that
Juts up in the air.
Blue angels swarming
Like water holding a form.
Each side engraved
with casualties of war.
Names with no face,
Names of a great death
holding its place.
A time to remember,
planted in space...
Blue angels circling
This garden hidden in stone,
Blue like the wide-open sky,
Freeing the spirit
From the burden of bones.
Names with no face,
a face just like mine,
Against myself,
Where no light can shine.
I am untouched.
I think of my mother,
My name she engraved
In the hidden sameness of love...
It juts up in the air,
With names of the dead,
None that I know,
Names, unlike mine,
Attached to the flight of
Their throes.
Against myself,
With a mind of my own.
Blue angels reaching
With hands made of light,
Light like the face that speaks
Before it's denied.
Hands made of light towards
The names engraved on each side.
I think of my mother,
Her face like the moon,
Her height sinking low
To Where I'm helpless and nude.
Against myself,
Like I have something to lose.
Names of the dead.
Names with no face,
A face just like mine.
I read the names
And think, there was once a great
Time to die...
DJ and producer Samrai (Swing Ting) offers their first full-length LP, a vibrant electronic portrait of South Asian migrant experiences. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 4, 2023
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