a poem on the space of appearance




Still learning to love

Still learning to see

Still learning to speak

If I am still learning, what does that mean

For the fool who made me a settler jewel?

I try to forgive, I tried to forget

But how do I see and how do I run

When I’m forced to step right into the sun

Only to be burned

Will I, will I

Ever be more

Or do I even need to be more

What is enough?

Is it more love?

I have drowned from too much love.

If love is not home, then

What is a home?

When all I see are doors and walls;

I feel as if I’m still learning to crawl.

What’s on the Other side in my Other mind /

a river of bullets, an ocean of bodies, a ripple of pushing and pulling on me

Where does it stop, where does it lead

Will I forgive? Will I be seen?

What if they do see the worst of me?

Must I relinquish the best of me?


if I step right into the sun

To be more than visible?

To be more than heard?

To be more than just?

To be more than a word

that fails. that fails. that fails as a speech, as a poem to be preached.

Until we are loved,

Until we are human,

Until we are home,

let the waters heal our burns.

For I believe the world just might turn.

From the space of appearance, up and away

May that be the day I’m empowered to say

That I am not me, or he, or she,

One day, I will simply be.