i wanted to shield you from all this
and keep you safe.
my own heart never compelled me
to write a story for myself
but with the heart of a nine year old prodding me
and your unbending gender defiance drawing me
how can stories not emerge from within me
and rise to the surface like resurrected bodies
little seeds of stories whose dormant bodies
have lain my belly for years and years, compel
all these seeds to break their shells
and fling their fragile arms toward the light
why were all we defiant hearts born at once, still being born
crossing and recrossing into one another’s cycling orbits
like a generation of unholy stars
born for a fascist state, one police nation under the white god
born for the rebellion, raised on revolution only we could see
born raised fists holding a prayer to raze parliament’s sickness
born out of line because someone must be left behind
while the march goes on ahead, there must be those
whose dance must scorch the muddy fields breathless clean
break the certain uncertainty of borders, for all borders must break
and stand like a torn flag with nothing left to hold
(not even you)
star sons and born daughters, all endings are beginnings
since no power can shield you or keep you safe
i will write you every story that was ever born within me
and die like a miigis, a shell adorning the face of the earth
with songs releasing till the infant dawn of time
“rise like lions after slumber.
in unvanquishable number.
shake your chains to earth like dew.
which in sleep has fallen on you.
ye are many—they are few.”
–percy bysshe shelley