This, A Gospel

In the beginning my beginning hummed
with the sound of a thousand other beginnings.
Now, when I say light, I stare away from sun
& into your body. If I am to be in possession
of anything, I want it to be my state of witness.
How difficult to see the consanguinity of rivers,
one leading toward one, the air the blown kiss
swims & the kiss itself, its fist & fever.
We are born of word & the word travels.
You hear it at night, the train’s rattling moan,
dust’s physicality, a country of mothers unraveling
& your heart beating out of you a mountain.
See this flesh of words, this song, yes, see this
dying. Who can live through it without crying.

Now, when I say light, I stare away from sun
& into your body.

Advertisement
Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.

Advertisement
More: Poetry

The latest from america

The attorney general of West Virginia has brought a civil suit against the Catholic Diocese of Wheeling-Charleston and its former bishop, Bishop Michael J. Bransfield.
In this episode, we will share the story of Marie Collins, an Irish survivor who became an advocate for victims of sexual abuse and served on the pontifical commission for the Protection of minors at the Vatican.
Deliver UsMarch 19, 2019
Mourners hug on March 18 after visiting the Masjid Al Noor mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand, the site of a terrorist attack last Friday. (AP Photo/Vincent Yu)
First, reach out to your neighbors and local mosque to show concern and compassion. Then call out those in your life who dehumanize others.
Saadia AhmadMarch 19, 2019
This undated photograph shows a close-up of the table where executions are carried out by lethal injection at San Quentin State Prison in California. (CNS photo/courtesy of California Department of Corrections)
Everything about the death penalty system seemed to be designed to deny hope. 
George WilliamsMarch 19, 2019