I write death bare before God
I sketch it a witness by the roadside
I stand, it stands
I walk, it follows
Haunting me after tears have poured
On someone’s tombstones
I carry the coffin of the poem
On a palm that bleeds death
I am the mortal body
I was free when the poem bound me
I weave from the womb of war a wish
A year without loss
No mercy for the sky
No screams or tears
No divide between dream and reality
Between death and extinction
Between a thing and its opposite
I spin the wish to survive
On an elephant’s trunk
With fragile threads
Invisible
Like the thread of equilibrium
That burns those who draw near
Will my thread be a pyre?
Or a sign of salvation…?
