It was just a wall
they were just kids
writing “freedom”
but those words delivered an invitation
to test what that meant
It was a tipping point
in the struggle to understand
the breathing pattern
of liberation
and freedom

they soon understood that first comes an exhalation
jubilee
the ecstasy of that introductory spark
Maybe soon there will be fireworks--
inhale.
one
long
inhale
swallowing the spark whole
I wonder if they understood when
they pulled off their fingernails
when they tore flesh
when they burned cigarettes
on their skin
when they drove them into the cold and blackness


This inhale has not been released
creating a vacuum
of fear
explosions writing
2 years of war
more than 70,000 dead
1,000 children
80,000 displaced

if you looked up
just once
you would see
Sleeping Beauty
the little girl, so restful she seemed
if you don’t ask how she died
if you looked at her hands, her hair, her face
and refused to look away
If you lengthened your drifting attention span
you would see her
and us

children,
in the cold and blackness
Learning to breathe again after watching our best friend being shot
or cousin tortured
this repetition doesn’t make anything easier
this infinity of sorrow
doesn’t shrink the farther you venture on
and as you watch this supposed infinity
through a screen
do not cease to be in content
with its vastness


I know what infinity feels like
and it is heavy
the bruises on my back
are noble
and I do believe my own children will one day tell of them
with pride on their tongues
but I cannot balance this weight
on backbone alone
they have burned my flesh
they have charred my heart
but I know the difference between
machine guns
and open palms clawing at the stars
they can come at me a million times
but someone will take my place
and hundreds will take theirs
because their smoke can only clear
but our flame has been born within us
We are candles in the sky
no matter how hard you blow
you cannot win
our flame will
not
die.