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