i rise, unbroken.
an unpublished essay on distance & displacement
what am i looking for?
a question i asked myself all this years. what am i looking for?
this exodus of stars, this impossibility.
and so what if
the void is always waiting. and so what if
i thought that if i tried hard enough,
maybe an arcane alchemical process will happen.
turning lead to gold. stardust to stars.
loss to wings. and so what if
i burned. and so what if
i thought i could try to hold the entire
night sky in the palm of my hands.
this exodus of stars. this waiting waiting waiting
this playing hooky with chance,
with luck. and so what if
i don't know what i wanted to write
because this hole begs me for forgiveness
and i'm just a sad boy looking for salvation.
and so what / what if.
and so, this. silence.
this night pooling on my doorstep. distant sounds.
music. blue light
distance is a fiction invented by those who are lonely.
those who are lost. we measure the space between planets
with lightyears. how do we measure the distance between people?
this, this exodus of stars. you wouldn't understand.
and so what if i'm unloveable, you mouthed.
as if the night could hear you.
as if the night could grow fangs
as if the night is your lover.
everything is vast and endless, you say.
so are we. an exodus of stars is impossible, you say.
it is the earth that moves, around the sun,
rotating on its axis. the stars are stationary.
and so what if nobody bought this piece of fiction,
but me. you'd never know this is for you.
and so what if i said goodnight
but i wanted to hold you?
how do you measure this distance?
let me have this, at least:
my exodus of stars. my impossibility.
the night dredges on
and so what if--
wall / night
this night reminded you that you are inadequate
this night reminded you that you are a girl, in body / girl, in name
this night reminded you that even darkness had an end, an edge
sharpened to a supernova
this night reminded you that you saw everything,
but who saw you? who saw you when it's dark and
you went out of your body, walking? who saw you when
the lights are off and the moon is out and the stars speak?
who saw you?
put a snake inside the girl-is-a-lie,
and you've got yourself a riddle.
put a boy inside a labyrinth, a flightless boy,
inside a crippled, broken labyrinth,
and you got yourself a poem. not this poem.
this night reminded you that you were not
who you were supposed to be / who you really are
as if the universe came around by accident of birth
and death is a lie. this night reminded you that
you are playing hide-and-seek, in a house of inverted mirrors.
this night reminded you that your body is a battlefield
that your body is not your body
that your body is not your home.
this night reminded you that you will always be the hidden one
flesh is wall, hole is wall, lack of is wall.
this night reminded you that there is a liar in this poem,
that the stars were listening
and still, we starve, we ache--