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 The girl reached up towards you, her hand shaking. She sees you walking away, 

blurring at the edges 

just out of sight and the 

screams of her telling you to come back, not wanting 

you to get hurt by people who don’t understand 

language is a precious gift to keep memory

sleep under the stars as children 

holding close a lullaby.

stay close in the dark, where

things are not danger and she does not have 

nightmares of you on the ground and bleeding the love away.

History there, too much history, you in her shadow 

so many times to keep her safe at school 

blurring at the edges, just out of sight and memory long after they

tease her for trying to hide.

Native voices keep memory and bring it back to a

place that does not remember you because of the distortion.

“You do not belong,” they say to her when

they see she loves a girl but she loves that girl

because she doesn’t look like you 

The way you are separated by a gulf that is not able to 

be crossed. You remind her of the time you slept under the stars 

as children and heard bad humans on the radio as they were going 

to drive you into the stars and apart from love.

-

To all who thought themselves impossible to love.