In the silence
in this, this lonely hour
Gaza falls
like the neck of a wildflower falls
this too shall pass
do you remember the past
your past
i am in the cave again
how your voices warm my heart
how your voices comfort me
a bird spilled out of me
i am 19 years old
getting on a bus to Johannesburg
not knowing I will go mad there
that it will be six months
before I will see the sun again
the leaves are sad for me
this singing forest, my mother
there is a terror inside of me
the voices murmur something
something about a baptism
i am only a passenger
a passenger who lost her mind
the marbles rock the children to sleep
the children i will never have
the son and daughter i will never have
speak, memory of light, of war
before I disinherit you
summer. salt. tears
the highway falls through the sky
i read everything
i can even read your mind,
this silence
this perception and topography of light healed all my wounds
bloodless grass
flame
tomato seeds plastered on my tongue
tasting of summer in the salad
droplets of seawater
against my skin
cold. wet. plasma
the shake of the fish seismic
these pills fill me or are they peas
please fix me, i cried
my mother doesn't love me
i doubt she ever has
perhaps when i was a baby
no
perhaps when i cried
in her own mother's arms
i don't know
perhaps when she knew
that i was going to be a writer
at eight
well, maybe
at twelve, when the typewriter appeared
perhaps when she
bought adult diapers for me
but she never told me,
her manic depressive daughter
in so many words
that she loved me
i am still crying
middle-aged i am still crying
please, please fix me
fix what is broken
make me whole again
bring my father back to life
i'm changing
i'm changing
watch how proteas grow
out, yes, out of my fingers
watch how they hiss,
snake and groove
just look at how perfect the day is
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