POLITICAL Poem: shapeshifter, by k. eltinaé

they call my heartbeat

irregular

and i smile

know too well that little boy

on a swing set fluttering in my chest

mouth crammed with sweets during ramadan.

hiding from shadows in the grass

it’s just his head tilting whenever it skips

admiring the clouds

pretending he could be one.

what no one ever teaches children

is that sometimes simply wishing

becomes a dangerous act.

one afternoon you’re dragged to the first row

to pray at the mosque

where there is never really room for you

so you disrobe your fears

become a place of worship

where only birds visit daily

to show disrespect

finally you decide to join them

falling behind

in migration

until no one remembers.

soon enough

you are returning

deep

into the folds of the earth as a fruit tree

cursing legions of ungrateful visitors

who carry your fruit away

years of this

hoarding

as they dismember

the shade

and memory of your body for warmth

part of you escapes as smoke

others shipped and sold

steeped and floating

survive

in tea cups and conversations

now you are the courage

coating the throats of a population

in villages and cities you can’t pronounce

disguised as the water of tears

you are that

invisible/dampness/trapped

in corridors

weaving shrouds at a loom

for every last drop

of shamelessness.

i am there with you

watching the exodus of children

queuing at sunset

to become

the clouds

that will always take

our breath away.