I remain a stranger

to my husband’s kin

it’s strange I miss their stranger’s skin

but bring taboo to skin they’re in

if words I speak upon their name

 

I hide my words

in fear of harm

displease the trees who delivered man

and breezed them on a wind to farm

the land trees put aside for them

 

in my hands, a harp I made

bear and eagle, age they gave

a single reed cut from a blade

shamanic lines taught me to play

so free was I in what I say

 

so put to lips and plucked with breath

my voice through brass

at times bamboo

you will find it placed in my burial

alongside my husband giving his voice too