Literature
Embodied
My flesh thinks it can shield the word by calcifying.
As if by letting the world sink in by osmosis,
I could purify it just the tiniest of bits--
Suffocating chalk, dust, pollutants, forgotten cries.
As if by offering my carbon up for unknown reactants,
I could contain an explosion or seal away a toxic leak.
Stiffening into stone at premonitions of war
Will not spare those caught in the rain of war's destruction.
But I am allowed to grieve.
Let the body flow and move with mourning,
Rest in sighs unspoken, I will not lie to my body.
Not today.
There are wars at hand. Wars that threaten to expand.
Voices, thoughts, hearts snuffed out in seconds,
Numbers disputed, records wiped.
Starved, gored bodies that cling to dignity,
Bodies that huddle waiting to see if their hope
Will take them and their loved ones into tomorrow.
My body does not know their suffering.
It slows and aches and murmurs.
I tell it: yes, we must not look away,
But living less does not add to lives far away.
Live a
