As still as the January dust

As still a the January dust I moved
into the nose of the world,
Settling on the fine hair of pretends
so I make her sneeze out of control
even till her eyes wield tears for fear
and her mouth showers spit as rain.

I wavered the air as I passed home
to watch my father ground
lay dead to the drums of feet
on his head and his back, on his aching mind.
Nobody cares for him they even spit on him.

Even when the cloud cries, he suffers
but that is the only way I travel
or when the rhythm talks to heels
they send me packing away from home
but you O air has lifted my hopes
for you travel along with your children
and take our messages home.