Because we have seen both justice and injustice,
we know the difference between them in our bodies.
And when we could not find justice,
we knew out by its absence.
We always knew.

And so we use our bodies,
our sadnesses,
as filters for each other
from the things we cannot bear.

When we speak,
I speak softly
for all the voices that have trampled me,
standing on top of me just to be heard.
I speak softly for all the voices I have trampled.

I speak as if my words
are open hands
or open books,
as if they could hear you
and resound in you,
like the guitar hollowed in your hands,
like my skin,
flickering
under your breath.

I am a moth with you,
a small, strong aliveness.

I flutter, I creak
--open