I come back for another lick.
You were a pillar once. Now you’re a block. I cannot see you through the salt.
I imagine you salty. Salt of the earth. A salty tongue. A tongue-lashing. Or did you hold your tongue. Your daughters, nameless throw-aways to the mob. Salt on the wounds.
You didn’t want to leave. It was your home. It was disbelief.
So you turned back.
Perhaps you chose to disobey, tired of following, always following. You, a nobody. A nothing. Nameless. Perhaps you wanted to be remembered, just once.
Let me lick off the salt. Let me see you.
Tell me your story.
Tell me your name.
published in Contemplate
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