what began as throbs ends
in a bleed. I return to the trail of my blood-
line dotted with bonds, a picture forming
an entrance to the place— coffles of sable-
skinned humans captured like trophies.
My room melts into time & I'm one
of the throng: a littlun staggering behind his
father under the searing glare of a noonday
sun. I watch the muscles rippling like waves
beneath my father's sweaty skin, his torso
torturously strained by the dragging train.
Here, our mouths lean into memories,
voids forged in runes. Far behind us
lie the dead & everything we know as home,
a sea shimmering in the distance like an
upturned sky with a vessel specked on it
to ferry us away. The air rent with piercing
howls of grief crashes back on us in waves
& I collapse. My father swerves to cradle me,
ignoring the driver's whip tearing even now
at his back. The last thing I see before
the blackout is a sea spilling from his blood-
We have lived ten thousand lifetimes before the first of men tore through the dirt.
some nights he’s a tidal wave & you drownas he scripts his love on your back.& you understand this language
If you've walked through the long night of grief,you'll meet the ghost that lives in your head.
i am the drowned ghosts of refugees, the one minute silences invented by daughters
the music is loud. everything is loud now especially our chests, howling with memories
what began as throbs ends in a bleed. I return to the trail of my blood-