IN MEMORY OF THE VICTIMS OF THE GLORIETTA BOMBING, OR GAS LEAK EXPLOSION, OR HIGH CERTAINTY OF DELIBERATE CONFUSION

I would rediscover the secret of great communication and
great combustions. I would say storm. I would say river.
I would say tornado. I would say leaf. I would say tree.
I would be drenched by all rains, moistened by all dews.
I would roll like frenetic blood on the slow current of
the eye of word turned into mad horses into fresh children
into clots into vestiges of temples into precious stones
remote enough to discourage miners, whoever would not
understand
we would not understand any better the roaring of a tiger.

from Notebook Of A Return To The Native Land
by Aimee Cesaire
(translated by Clayton Eshleman and Annette Smith)