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Dedicated to Alton Sterling and his family, to Baghdad, to Istanbul, to Pulse, and to every place and person in between suffering from hands of hate
Ambulance
I finally understand why sirens sound the way they do constant wailing shrieking through the streets what other sound could there be? what other sound is possible to make-- holding body after body porous with bullets gaping, whole faces missing blown out by bombs stretchers, hundreds stained with the rape of souls I finally understand why sirens make box cutter slices through whatever matter stands between me and their flaring, bloodshot lights message searing: this will not be ignored today when I am without my cry my voice dried out from reacting to the world, I am glad the sirens are ripping the air around me mourning, rageful I eat up their battle cry. I stuff my mouth with their howl. I eat it like it will save me from this world on fire and I wait. I hold my breath until my noise returns and I can join each siren in reverberating alarm, can sing in their screeching choir: when will you see that our cries are shared? that each of us holds the accumulation of every black brown pillaged body upon our hands? cry, love cry, love cry your tears are proof that you are still alive we need your sound we need you to survive |
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