Transferred
bless those echoes,
she typed;
prayerfully,
supportively,
with all the sincerity
of an action
following a disclosure.
it wouldn’t have mattered
what was said,
because transfers mark the space
before and the space after,
nothing about
our special what
invokes them;
only our sharing,
and the splitting of time.
this is a time of transference
with each
closing feeling freeing,
emotions still unset.
Our confusion rests in
what we won’t distinguish.
two rapists.
two fathers.
two storytellers,
and not often true ones.
who’s to size
lies accurately
in moments
where
we’re
all
desperate
and
scarred?
who’s to be a knight for others
when their safety
was never
threatened?
safety is threatened,
let’s be clear.
safe thoughts.
safe walks home.
safe families.
safe bodies.
safe futures.
unsafety transfers in a way
that safety can’t.
unsafety is what was here,
not what was carried,
echoing
in
talks
of
saviors
by white saviors;
who look awfully like someone
we’ve barely survived.
someone who fancies
themselves safer.
someone believed to be
safe for now.
someone sized
for
this moment,
if not the next one.
we prevail, you say.
blue waves, you say.
waves like endings
come in on someone’s tide,
and tonight
I wonder
whose tide this is,
as I picture safety
for us.
bless those echoes,
she said with the sincerity and tenderness
of an unanswered body,
speaking before
a tide carries us back to the shore.