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