By Zaara Khan
Sweat a bullet of water, sweat an ocean or cry a river.
Then deliver a hand, parcel it to africa,
hand-parcel me in a cracking glacier of Antarctica.
Be helpful, be grateful, say thank you and sleep like you're drowning in the river,
flowing in the river
Becoming like the leaves that swim in the river.
Your name, sliced thin like lemon peels,
Chewed over and over again and swallowed
In your mouth, say my name.
Then place some sugar on the tongue, grab a new tongue
Say it over and over again
Like an ice cube melting, drop by drop on the pavement.
Say it like you saw a ghost, saw a house explode
The pieces a surgeon can’t carve out.
Say: “these are the pieces a healer can’t put together”
These are the things i learned in a song
How longing sounds better when you're closer to God,
when you are eroded by love. It sounds like:
"Hold on, hold on, let me cup you like water."
Or: "Hold on, hold on—let’s go drown in the water."
We should let the water hold us,
hold us in a bottle sailing, taller than a boat,
anchoring my body whole, please, give me something to hold.
Say this in five languages, say it in ten, say:
“I know the hero inside you”
Making a conversation with a fist between your teeth
Say “I'm sorry we cannot speak”
I know you’re sorry, you can’t be how you feel, in any of these languages
You're the hero, counting till twenty,
Just to ask for more bandages.
It’s okay, say sorry, say thank you, say please.
Forgive me.
Then say: “father let me grow out of my childhood”
Say: “father let me grow out of your childhood”
Say: “let me grow taller than the sail of a boat,
let me taller than a memory on the ocean floor”
Say it then remember it–
Like the capital of the country you’re held hostage in,
Like the gravel you scratched your knee in,
Say it then name it– like a hurricane,
Like the day you missed in fourth grade
Like the dragon they saw without you.
Remember it more than you miss it,
Remember it then sugar the ulcer, tip the mountain over.
Say it like: “i saw you drowning– knuckles white, face white, arms white.
I saw you devoid of love”
Please, say it like that, scream it in the face of regret.
Say: “i was a pedestrian–i'm not your lifeguard”
Say it, then I'll repeat it.
Say it and it’ll be forgiven- then unheard.
Say it and the way this poem curves, will the eulogy of a lovebird.
And not the drip drip of blood,
rusting on the pavement.
Say that it was rougher than boyhood, sadder than girlhood,
Say it in fragments, like a prayer never learned,
Grow a plant, under the streetlight,
Grow another, then a third.
Parent a sentence, build me a new word.
Or just say sorry, say thank you, say please,
and I'll remember it.