“later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.”
Warsan Shire
When
W O R D S
find me
in the form of a poem
they often
e v o k e
my words to form
a poem:
This Body
has laid in a crib
placed there by loving hands
This Body
has laid in a field
looking up at cloud formations
the rising
the setting sun
and the stars that have poked holes
in the black velvet curtain of night
This Body
has laid in sand
having the sun seep into its pores
while the ocean has baptized it
This Body
has laid in a bed
companioned by a love
never to be fully described
but intimately known
This Body
has been on a gurney of pain
not to so much experience Cure
as to have a certain healing
This Body
will lay in the ground
It’s ashes swallowed up
not to be forgotten
but to begin again
in a new way
to lay again
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