By Alej (they/them)
Fleeing in the middle of the night, who are we trying to be, a band of coyotes? but fearfully running to the nearest place that would take us, accept us. It’s not that they wouldn’t accept us. If we suggested to stay, it only determined how much she was willing to sacrifice. . . All in the name of me. all. for. me. (question myself; me?) Did you make us leave because his truth was so erratic, striping— it tore off this fake enamel you plastered over your exposed steel bars— those bars, a cage. But a cage not occupied by greeting mourning doves, the confinds of the cage hold gentle, messily dismembered bodies holding feathers; left with one life in an eye. Scab and scab again. Trying to heal but struck again before your cells, your soldiers could gain their strength, build themselves back up again. To knowingly be prepared for the next hardship, likely the same hand again. Yet that hand hasn’t been a hand in vastly 25 years, He’s dead. you’re safe, go home. But, remind me again. where is your home. Where is MY home? Did you take mine, because they took yours ? well, I’ve changed the key. You can walk yourself home, maybe to another’s (to borrow) Because you will not assume control over
my bodymy home. You can live through and fight your own problems. I was born from an opening where a river spilled from, a person. You’ve taken me far beyond the river, Ive built a boat with what I have left, and I’ll paddle until I see where the sky and the sea kiss and bear the teeth of land and trees. Smiling back at me. to give me the gift of a welcome to home.