I have this trauma that
Stems from my rootlessness.
It reaches down into my stomach like a gnarled hand
Invading the birth canal and
Twists my insides with its icy touch.
When I think about myself
I think about loneliness. I think about the
Silk threads that stem from my
Spine and reach across the world.
Their fragile weave connected me to home but
Steel and the wind severed my ties and
Left me gasping for breath on alien shore.
I turn to familiar patterns burning in the night sky
I turn to song and dance, to aged silken skin and
Designs in the cloth to
Bring me closer to the home I have never known.
I shed this trauma. It slips down my back like sweet rain
I ignite a will to be of two worlds
In both I am home.