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.