Member-only story
Poetry
Spatial Disorientation
A Poem
If I know where I am going,
I don’t need you dictating my path.
We were once a race of uprooted beings
desperate to find some soil to call home
The same comfort that made us forget
the travails of getting to the place where we are now
made us forget the bitter taste of blood
we are now willing to spread to fertilize
the fields, we are now ready to plow
But,
How do we know if blood would give us oranges
or red tomatoes with seeds dripping from
the contour of our mouths
our incisors bitting
the plums, this generous land
fertilized with spawn
will provide
to us
And if the shreds left
by what were once the bones on my face
hold the air between your now fertile land
may you remember me and my blood
as it nourishes your bones
May we not forget
as we go to where we are going
we were a race of uprooted beings once
And we are called to seek our path
Pablo Pereyra 2024. Thank you for reading.
