You don’t say that we are dying if we are standing amid a war.

You say that we are living.

through our hands in the debris, our walls falling, 

and roofs shattering. Our bodies are bleeding from the bones.

You don’t say we are breaking.

You say we are making. An alphabet a time.

you spell r e v o l u t i o n

We don’t tie a bandage. We don’t nurse the wound.

We take a handful of seeds, and bloom.

We plough our blood, we shed a tear or two.

You don’t say we are crying.

You say we are breathing.

one breath at a time.

enough for the downfall of a regime

We grow out of this skin. Our homes are all empty.

We are in the streets that leads to the home

that won’t come under the bulldozer.

for the walls of our hearts, our chambers are filled with debris

We bury our companions each night. We bury ourselves too,

little by little.

You don’t say that we are fighting a war.

You say we are documenting a change.

for wars were never right

and will never be.

You don’t say that we are under a panic attack. You don’t say that we are under threat.

I hold your hands. Kiss your wounds as the wall falls.

We lie on the floor. Talk to the stars.

You don’t say that we are dying.

You say that we are making love.

for war will only end when you and I 

began to love

each other and this world.

And all those who make this world. Our pea plant. Our birds in the cage. Our fishes in the water.

Our turtle under the bed.

So hold hands. The world has just begun to bleed,

and love is the bandage we all will need.

© Sameera Mansuri 2021.