But we are permitted to wonder
And there is nothing left to say of it
My vows were dead as premonitions
Like an Aztec priestess, I was sent to be sacrificed
When the sudden death came
I was not expecting, the inevitable
I lost consciousness distilled in a lifetime
Of servitude, and vowed one day to rise
In a different form, a greater jaguar
The old winter rain stained my blood soaked body
I am afraid there is no room, in your heart
For one such as me, I am too gentle
Too kind, too sort of like a shepherd
I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more
But we are permitted to wonder
What might have been, I know in dying I do
I shall sleep in the streets with the last Great Word
And tell no grand-daughters why you were so cruel.
Wuji Seshat 