“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