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Island Alone

kwabenagyane

The palms of the tree hide me from the sun

The sand, golden gnats only after one

The air, burnt to a crisp, I inhale until it is undone

The clouds, twenty-four last time, now there are none

The birds, messengers that occasionally touch the earth

The water, where life gave birth

The fish, they look at me unable to conceal their mirth

The palms of my hands cannot hide the fact

I am alone.

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