Poetry

Adam Roufberg

The Clan Between Worlds

I see you are in mortal combat with life and life is winning.
Of course it would.
It is the most powerful of the fundamental forces.
Self Emergent. Self Organizing. It persists.
See what you can do to destroy it.
Rest assured. Life will destroy you.
Death, on the other hand, will embrace you dearly.
We are all the same.

It is not that way at all.
It is not what they told you.
When you get here you’ll know
we are all the same.
You can’t possibly understand that now
there’s only one thing
in this state you’re in,
between worlds,
birth and death,
wrapped in skin
separating you
from your brother wind,
going into you,
your sister sky
sliding out of you.

It is not what they told you.
They don’t know what they’re doing.
You can’t see the transformation,
wilderness of dreams.
This is not liberation theater.
Destroy the word,
we are all the same.

How did you and I become –
I don’t mean me and you,
I mean – the words, fool?
Why do you use them the way you’re told?
Why give them your attention
when we know they don’t know what they’re doing,
limited by racist perception,
free to roam this enchanted prison,
only one thing,
even rule for a fool’s day or two.
But you don’t want to be like them,
stupid and afraid.
We know their hearts are closed.
We are all the same.

You can’t see the transformation,
out beyond a world afield.
It’s all an illusion
between right and wrong,
on such a scale that you can only be a part of…
Love is insurrection,
talon on bone.
This is our sanctuary.
Lay down your arms.
You are the suicide revolution.
Only one thing.
Death, your finery,
love and art
unite in blood and body part.
We are all the same.

Clan between you and I,
they don’t know what they’re doing.
They’re stuck in the between.
Defy your identity,
it is not what they told you.
There is only one thing,
when you get here you’ll know,
it is going right into you.
Every time you see the beauty,
there is only what’s in your head, man.
Every time you feel the pain,
there is only what’s in your heart, ma’am.clan.

Between you and I,
they don’t know what they’re doing.
They’re stuck in the between.
Defy your identity,
it is not what they told you.
There is only one thing,
when you get here you’ll know,
it is going right into you.
Every time you see the beauty,
there is only what’s in your head, man.
Every time you feel the pain,
there is only what’s in your heart, ma’am.

I am Wonkum Mikitchia.
I ask of you only one thing:
this is our sanctuary.
Define your identity.
We are all the same.
It’s just light and gravity,
the great spirits dream,
horizon of desire,
born of alien clays.
We are not differentials,
the expectation pool,
it’s a mafia state.
How will you heal?
We are all the same.
When you get here you’ll know,
it’s not what they told you.

I am Wonkum Mikitchia.
I ask of you only one thing:
this is our sanctuary,
every time you feel the pain,
this is how to heal,
there is only one way.
Every time you see the beauty,
it’s what’s in your heart.
Beyond between,
we are all the same.

Adam Roufberg holds a MS in (Bio)Physics and an MAS in Peace Studies and Conflict Transformation and has been working as a teacher for 20 years in the field of natural philosophy. He has also been studying music since he was quite young and now lives in Granada, Spain where he studies Flamenco guitar with a Gypsy Master or two. He has been a wordsmith since he realized you can do whatever you want with words – they are one’s enslavement or one’s liberation. Once in a while he is possessed by the dark beauty of life and takes up the pen and transcribes the universes thoughts.