Four months.

Rain, midnight, May 2nd. I’m biking by the sea. My heart is open and free.

War efforts

Make a population disappear.

Are we drowning in our own humanity

Or lack thereof-

Why is our survival relevant?

To every stateless child

I don’t know

Whose war I am fighting

But I believe it began

In the strawberry patches

Or perhaps among the raspberry briars-

There I scratched my knee,

And you carried me

Back into the kitchen and grandmother and teapots full of boiling, black love over the Aga stove.

This war is different,

But the children are still children.

Humanity

You are dark and beautiful

All at once.

You terrify and console me.

You are everything I expected you to be.

This is the first day of the rest of my life.

E

Small worlds

Honour yourself. Honour your body. Honour the earth. Honour yourself as an extension of all life forms. Even that which appears dead is composed of the most intricate combination of elements. As are you. You are a magnetic field of energy, an orchard of chemicals, a meadow of hormones. And on top of that, you are you. You are as loved and as special and as wanted as a single raindrop. You are unique, and loved, and you would not be here if you were not ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to the balance and sustenance of life on our little planet. For little it is.

What you did to me

A knock on the door of the soul-

that’s what rape is.

Seared into my soul like lobster in scalding water

Beans on the burner

Sirens on a quiet street.

A dark cloud on the horizon must dissipate.

That’s what they tell me, repeatedly.

Everybody apologizes.

Except you.

In the room of ‘imut’ your eyes lock mine.

Smirking, you say my name.

They fucked up, you know it, I know it.

From that moment on, you claim another piece of my soul.

I retreat inwards further.

Away from my name.

Away from her.

She is just the shell.

Look at her.

Fingerprint bruises around her neck,

And they’re already forcing her into a room with this animal.

She’s just a child, really.

When I open my eyes, I see you, little blonde singing baby girl, wearing a green headband, and blue dungarees, clutching The Famous Five and Cheese and Onion.

My heart.

I’m sorry that I could not protect you, sweetheart.

I’m sorry that I failed you, little girl.

May you find a world of peace, far from crimes of the ego, and of malice.

It is not your fault that you are quiet, that you are good, that you are pure-hearted, that you are sweet.

It’s not you.

It’s this world.

Breakthrough

Perhaps all of these expectations and feelings are based on false premises about the world that were never true in the first place, so how could everyone, across the spectrum of humanity, commit to one singular truth?

Witness

I am forever to be trapped in the body that is the body

That you did that to

The most horrific

Thing

Why?

But no

No.

There are no ways

To explain away evil

Evil goes where evil is

Evil is as evil does

Evil is evil

Leave the body

Now

Let it go

Retreat into the mind

Where your beautiful soul

A butterfly

Quivers