The increasing violence of love continues to be inflicted.
“She kissed as if
she alone could forge
the signature of the sun”
– Saul Williams
Hurt people hurt people. So the cycle of pain continues.
Perhaps, people’s hurt hurts people. Stuck in a cycle of pain that only happens because it happens we self propagate.
“You are loved”
“I love you”
What does it mean to care about precarity in a precarious space?
(Riddle: My top is over the edge, my bottom is not, my heart is speaking – who am I?)
A question rephrases itself: Does stating precarity increase it? Things out of balance will continue to spiral.
Somehow, I remind myself, we will survive this place. Everyday it seems more of a plea than a statement of intent.
That body should speak
When silence is
The grief sealed in memory;
That body might become tongue
Tempered to speech …
NourbeSe Phillips, She Tries her Tongue
“What do you think we’re going to do? Ask?”
Broken letters continue to find their way onto the page. A meandering happens, a dance between saying now and saying then. Between talking about what is happening in the context of what happened but still imagining around what is happening.
Few people know how to do this – I’m not one of them.
This is all that’s left; fractures of writing and broken bodies…
… and it continues not to end.