i now know
my whole body is my heart
seeing his sweet cheeks, his baby fingers before he became the corpse, uplifted
silhouetted by fire
i remember i often fall in love backwards
a modern day skill
beginning with blood or absence
a newborn ghost, a headline
(you want a trigger warning:
look at your crooked finger)
another sacred tragedy
(stranger i pray you survive the telling)
then my nauseous heart and i, waiting
until someone, with trembling hands
(and prayers every other breath because we do not blame god for the work of men)
tells me what matters about my new love
not gender, not state, but memory
the way they held their favorite toy
scream their past, weep their name
whisper it, i am listening
and owed nothing—no, i owe you
i was born in the us of a
into the cult and debt of superpower
a clueless villain aghast in this mirror
tell me what your love loved and who
and what horizon collapsed
when the sun set in their eyes
i am sorry i am sorry i am so sorry
i know it doesn’t yet matter what i do
my solidarity mere tributary
my heart must flow into yours
and yours and yours
until we can crest this fatal wave
we won’t matter until the death stops
until the cycles of superiority stop
until the distorted lenses that make us turn each other into pieces are all destroyed
we are extracting the poison from within
we are relinquishing delusion
someone has to shape the world that is into the world to come
everyone who can, in every way
even my ways, even mine
so i listen and change and act and listen
but i wish i had met ahmed and sidra and reem and hind and and and, breathing
and i wish i had never known their names
if it was only to lose them
and i wish we were untangled
that my grief was not choked with my guilt
and i wish i could ever do enough
in the eyes of gods and goddesses and jesus and buddha and the ancestors
in the eyes of the grandchildren
emerging wide awake from other wombs
in the eyes of the earth itself
and, but, child—i am so grateful
my heart saw your face
now i must let it change me
and hold on to everyone else changing
leaving behind those who aren’t ready
to hold the world
it is only us after all
doing everything
all of it
what we allow
what we turn away from
it sticks to us, it goes with us
until we remember we are earth
until we decide we can decide
we must decide
we are the invisible thread
we hold it together, the world
in our hands, uplifted