History affirms me.
The past and I are separate
Although equally relevant.
The past does not just die
just because you
acknowledge its resilience
and mistake me for inside it.

 
It doesn’t come and go.
Like drought does,
like wind does,
like rain.

 
History repeats —
But, in infinite ways.
This ability to strike and drop
in arson’s name.
This simple, modest ability
to be bold. To drop a match.
Then another and
another and
another and

 
another Janus of the ocean.

 
New uncertainty.
Is two faces in one.