intensity

To be lost in a note, in a stroke or in a poem
is an example fixated on joy that is routed from the souls inner movement.
In a new country on a shore that was barren, damp and cold
we were isolated in only the work our hands could perform, or the ideas our minds could produce
The cold that became trapt between the creases of our muscular make up
Is the cold that formulated the shells over the organ responsible for life, responsible for absorbing a holy holy spirit.
Hearts that relied on what we could do to progress
A love communicated based on what another could contribute to our colonial development. What do you have to give?
If you give, I will love. If you provide I will abide.
Somewhere on a ship setting sale to freedom, we got lost in the waves.
Somehow the plague not only took lives but abolished the ability for life, to the fullest.
Waiting for the wages, as we wait for our life to begin.
Not acknowledging the freedom we were promised, drown in original sin.