Counting rice. Counting people. Counting the hours
I have left. I pray for the sky to open up a hole and swallow me.
I crawl like a fetus and cry. I close my
tiny fists. Fear and trembling. As my thunder
splits the earth in two.
Purify the water that will carry me. Take me back to where I come from.
Heavenly Father: Evaporate this capsule. Before I release
My fists. And the skies clear.
Never to be confined again.