Grief is a ceremony
A site for another kind of power
It is the resacralization of suffering
In order to make room for a world beyond wholeness
What is the promise of bodies bent into question marks?
Let us lay on the ground and find out
How we become gourds with spouts
And a spot that marks the opening into something other
Let us emerge as open months
In a collective ritual of unbecoming
by Alixa