resurrection

Photo by Aperture Vintage

this poem came to me after i heard from a dear brother that he is considering moving out of this country. my heart was sad to hear this news, but also full of understanding and support. i very much hope he can find the ease he is seeking, and wish that for all my brown and black kin. it is beyond time for them to have that which they so deeply deserve.

privileged, i lay

in the warm healing waters,

scrolling until i

found the message which

pierced my heart. he spoke, my black

brother, of leaving

this place once and for

all. i do not deny that

desire in myself,

yet i know my place

is here. i shared words of love,

commiseration

(best i could, given

our divergent histories),

and closed the page. with

a sigh, i rested

my head to look up at the

blossoming night sky.

above me flew a

Phoenix, wide as the heavens,

straight up, made of stars

and cloud, and i knew

We are The Resurrection.

then i remembered

a dream, so vivid.

a colorful caravan

of refugees, in

which i was a rare

elder. i carried in my

arms a small baby

Phoenix who had been

unceremoniously

thrown into the trash

heap by accident.

i had rescued it and ran

through the camp with cries

of despair (who could

have done such a thing?) when it

rose up out of my

arms and burst into

flaming color, screaming joy.

the Phoenix had come,

knowing we were The

Resurrection, and we were

also refugees.

returning from this

sweet memory, i recall

the prophecy of

the Condor and the

Eagle, and realize this

sublime Phoenix high

above me signals

birthing of that prophecy.

birth only comes from

death, and death is but

a portal of birthing. i

will stay here as a

Doula for the great

mysterious emerging

chaotic beauty.

i’ll stay and midwife

this Resurrection, so my

brother can now rest.

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