[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.