In the wreckage of my heart
can I open anyway?
In the disaster land
of the aftermath of choices
can I open anyway?
In the rubble
of decimated villages
ravaged tribes
pillaged body
can I open anyway?
Lying on the ground
bleeding
from takers conquering
can I open anyway?
Can I open to be torn
like a river in the earth?
Can I open to that flow
over the scars of my being?
Can I allow my orifices
to become sacred sights
for baptisms of broken pieces
to be made whole?
And in the grief and sorrow
of the world and of myself
collected in a lake of tears
fed by the rivers flowing
over all of their scars
through all the tears ripped
in the earth and stars
and in all their hearts
can I open anyway?
Can I let the tear
in my flesh and soul
be a river now?
Can I let the tear
be an opening?
I hear a quiet voice say,
“Yes, it’s time.”
Copyright © 2019, Sheyorah Naify
Artwork by Adam Scott Miller