I will weep no more tears for you,

You who in your folly

forget that I do not forget.

You who are burned so deeply into my brain

that I would recognise you

by the shape of your ear, the cant of your shoulders,

glimpsed from behind in a busy street.

You who offer no answers and cannot even hear the question,

deep-throated and buried, caged panther pacing.

My bliss will never depend on your actions.

And for this I thank you, Pacha-mama, Life-giver, Source.