on boundaries

we die,
we die rich, with lovers and tribes
tastes we have swallowed
bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers
fears we've hidden in,like this rigid cave
i want all this marked on my body
we're the real countries,
not the boundaries drawn on maps,
the names of powerful men

i know you'll come and carry me out
into the palace of winds
that's what i wanted
to walk in such a place with you
with friends
on an earth without maps
the light's gone out and i'm writing in the darkness

the english patient
a well selling love story
on most disturbed sociohistorical circumstances