The Curse

Once we grew as one

in that warm space of womb

where life grew out of nothing

and nothing separated your life from mine


You live in these bones

in this tent of flesh and blood--

offspring of your life,

flesh of your flesh. 


But do you live in these words

or is this a fiction, an illusion

of poets who profit from their words

who cut lives open with their lies


These words

will bring back

nothing

nothing but

loss

upon

loss



loss

cold as death

abject

faceless

loss



It sounds so much less noble

to those whose lives it has touched--

severed

from the source of life

like a tree 

cut at its root


These words will bring back nothing

But can they show me life

growing up like a tender shoot

out of dry ground

Life after Death

I have heard it said that a word
can bring form out of the void
can create something
out of
nothing

But can a word resurrect
all that was lost
bring back to me
those whom I love

Can a word
be made flesh
dwell with me
call me son
lead me
home

---

These poems speak with the voice of an orphan narrative, yet they challenge its form as well, simultaneously recognizing and questioning the ability of language to represent loss. The acceptance of language's inability to accomplish the physical restoration of family leads the speaker toward despair, but the final images of life suggest a hope for renewal. This tension within these poems illustrates the imperfect ability of language to represent loss and bring renewal, but also that language may embody new life and the possibility of redemption outside of language.