Dear child of the near future,
here is what I know—hawks
soar on the updraft and sparrows always
return to the seed source until they spot
the circling hawk. Then they disappear
for days and return, a full flock,
ready. I think we all have the power
to do what we must to survive.
One day, I hope to set a table, invite you
to draw up a chair. Greens steaming garlic.
Slices of bread, still warm. Honey flecked with wax,
and a pitcher of clear water. Sustenance for acts
of survival, for incantations
stirring across our tongues. Can we climb
out of this greedy mouth,
disappear, and then return in force?
My stars are tucked in my pocket,
ready for battle. If we flood
the streets with salt water, we can
flood the sky with wings.
by Tamiko Beyer
from Split This Rock
listen as Tamiko Beyer reads “Equinox”.