[insert revolution into childhood]
I whisper apologies
to my own children
as they sleep,
I never meant to pass this on
Never meant for them to feel
the [fear of war]
the [pain of leaving]
the [signs telling us to go back]
especially when I can’t remember any of them myself
but our bodies have a way of remembering
trauma has a way
of [physically altering our DNA]
They too will carry the pain
of [leaving a home],
even if their feet have never walked its back
No human attempt
to erase [pain] is successful
all I can do is bang
with my fists
and watch them
[bleed words].
A reclaiming in two parts
Immigrant When the ocean spits you out
To be immigrant away from home
means to be a whisper you claim the chaos
between and learn to bloom again.
crashing
ocean
waves.
***
Rumpus original logo art by Mina M. Jafari.
