I held my breath in from the miasma
Leaning on a dried-out shovel
Sweat slalomed down my gaunt face
Gleaming in the summer Sun
I looked at the cyclists passing by
The birds flying overhead, the horses grazing
I envied their luxury
Stranded on an island of dirt
I grieved my labor
And conceded to the incessant noise
Of flies and insects swarming my body
That Which Is Safe
That Which Is Safe
Miasma
Understanding Healing
We Build Our Castles In the Air
We Build Our Castles In the Air
Understanding Healing
A Thousand Words
A Thousand Words
But a Sound
Impulses
But a Sound
The Hand That Rests On My Shoulder
The Hand That Rests On My Shoulder
Road to Himeji
Road to Himeji
One Day We Will No Longer Hurt
If You Are Reading This
If You Are Reading This
One Day We Will No Longer Hurt