Fahmidan Journal / Issue 19
Weeping for What Was Stolen
By: Talicha J.
we’ve been taught to ignore foreign blood, death, displaced
[flesh]
laid out nameless as numbers & covered in shrouds
[pressed]
wrinkle-free, pristine before all that life seeped in
[to]
the grain of its fabric, the streets, a mother’s arms
[warm]
and weeping for what was stolen, stained a shade of
[grief]
that will never come out no matter how it’s washed
[stained]
black folk poured onto pavement beneath a blue knee–
[deep]
bruise spread like a table for repass; we don’t eat
[like]
the brown bodies who broke past border, forced to up-
[root]
self from homeland for safety only to find myth
[made]
the american dream less bullet riddled, more
[home]
sweet home, but it smells bitter here, everyone is
[sick]
flesh pressed to warm grief, stained deep like root made homesick
Note: A ribcage is a poetic form invented by poet, Athena Liu, consisting of 24 lines alternating between 12-syllable lines and a monosyllabic word in brackets. At the end of the text, the bracketed words — or spine — are read from top to bottom.