How do I keep going
When there is nowhere to go?
How do I stay awake
When nights stretch endlessly?
How do I stay here
When I do not belong?
How do I escape the wheel?
How do I avoid the clock’s needles?
How do I not do it?
When I have been preparing for it all my life –
That deep communion with stone,
That cold non‑existence like before,
That silence after all the noise?
Free…
Of hate and failure,
Of borders and race,
Of labels,
Of judgment,
Free even of the selfish wish
to be happy.
It is permissible to return the ticket halfway through.
It is permissible to exit
When the world turns blue.
A grave is a shelter for bones,
For what remains above
is injustice layered upon injustice,
Pressed into historical soil.
My bones,
a grace
to be left alone.
