Within the Starting the Phrase
1
the phrase was
unverbed unruled simply birthed
earlier than hen on the altar or binding
at hilltop not taken or given in
swindling religion not proof of god whose
token or regulation was spoken
to frighten the soul oh black gap
the place as soon as my coronary heart beat
At first the phrase was
unlettered unfettered delicate
syllables uttered as wind in an intimate
stroke throughout a desert slope hope
is the unfallen grandly silhouetted at
ridgetop gentle of the start
world resting within the night time valley undimmed
by greed and lies —
At first what was solitary
within the land escaped belongingly
nobody’s a phrase imagined as spoken to self
from the deep breath or breathe
urgently urged to the new child who
gained’t cry her ear is just too delicate for this
babel she hears solely candy promised stream
via the dry wadi —
However as if to start with was we
knew the tip with final solar
setting so darkness might converse its piece don’t
think about peace no starshine or moonrise
to impede simply a world crammed to its brim with
despair particles via all the town
streets demolished above tunnels beneath our bodies
all over the place and the one phrase was —
go away —
2
oh black gap
the place as soon as my heartbeat was
hope
is the unfallen grandly silhouetted at
ridgetop
breath or breathe candy promised
stream via the dry wadi however we
don’t think about peace simply
despair particles demolished
go away oh black gap
the place
as soon as
was
to start with
After
The good lifeless educate the dwelling to not hate.
—Brenda Hillman
The good lifeless returned.
The various lifeless.
The gorgeous boys, all
the gorgeous ladies.
The determined moms, the
surprised fathers, the nonetheless
wide-eyed infants, the candy
toddlers. The bodied
lifeless and people burnt to ash,
they too returned. The lifeless
we counted and the lifeless we couldn’t
rely, we stopped counting as
the numbers rose too excessive.
The lifeless whose deaths broke
our breath into ragged tears
and the lifeless whose deaths left us
unmoved. The lifeless whose names
we knew, whose names we
spoke in our sleep, in our terror
goals, and the lifeless whose names
we by no means knew and now can’t
care to know. The unburied
lifeless, rotting beneath the rubble, and
the lifeless buried in mass graves,
wrapped in plastic, in white sheets.
The lifeless borne by the weeping
crowd, carried on stretchers,
draped in defiant flags, positioned
in but yet another disbelieving
grave. And the grandmothers
lifeless who had deliberate to die
of their beds, the previous males lifeless,
those that had fled as soon as
or twice earlier than, then
planted timber to be themselves
rooted, olive and almond they
faithfully tended, until that morning,
that day, that night time, that week, these
months they grew to become one of many lifeless,
the good lifeless, the numerous
lifeless who now return,
demanding that we cease
talking of their names,
that we cease making
extra lifeless of their bleeding,
their aching and orphaned
names.
