I said a prayer for a mother I don’t know
I held a son that was not mine.
My hands have never dripped with blood
But if they did, my eyes would look like hers.
Black flies on black walls - privileged to the core
I bury my bones under my skin
And pray for a mother I don’t know.
I cried for a man I don’t know.
I watched his mother die.
I’ve never seen ash the way her face held it.
But if I did, my knees would look like his.
Palm to palm, my prayer is gentle
And his looks like a hurricane
So I cried for a man I don’t know.
I sat next to a building I’ve never been to.
I’ve smelt death I’ve never met.
My heart has never felt the violence of air turning to dust.
But if it did it, my lungs would look like theirs.
Purified air - I see clearly their panic
Collapsed rooms - collapsed lungs we cannot touch
As I sat next to a building I’ve never been to.
I saw a child who doesn’t know my face.
He told me pain I don’t understand.
And I cannot understand his words.
But if I did, I don’t think I’d know what to say.
I’d hold him bigger than hurt.
But I live in english and swim in water they can’t drink.
And a child does not know my face.