The Recurring Dream of the Water Mothers (X)
In this / metaphysic, not one of us dies from want / or lack / or saving / or flight...
rehumanizing
policy
In this / metaphysic, not one of us dies from want / or lack / or saving / or flight...
I would often be stricken silent until I traced / My blood gaps...
Hunger hungers still. We, / resurrected, warm under / a familiar flame...
There is no terror, at least, / of unknown, glottal tongues.
Epigenetic rage is an avowed, / deserved grievance. But to what / end?
We / abandoned earth with dignity, severed / our ties and breathed in salt.
...Elements / existing where they aren’t supposed / to be—their wills explosive revolution.
...a small gap, a bridge— / an invitation to some unwrinkled past—
...the sea swallows / itself whole. Breaking the weight of us all...
Water holds danger, epigenetic memory, / & I refuse the murky, shallow currents.
“One day, you will learn,” the woman said, “inshallah.” She was talking about the language, but to me her words prophesied a more transcendent lesson.
But will there really be a revolution after the night of revolution // and will it belong to our daughters if it comes
The word Indigenous has been affixed so firmly to our faces that it becomes a mask that tries to pass itself off as skin.