Matryoshka
I’ve come to hold sadness in my hands To walk a thousand miles in the hottest desert. Drink not water. My feet swollen and bruised. Bloody. I’ve come to see the face of great-grandmother. We have the same dark eyes. We have the same scraped soul. We bear the same name. There is no escaping. She’s in me. She’s in me. In my last moments of life, I want to release the sadness....