The distance between one breath and another
is like the miles starlight travels to reach
my dreams. I write my way toward my death,
behind me a crumb trail of words erasing,
birds carrying morsels to their hungry chicks.
Years I’ve traveled the byways
of language, searching for that doorway --
light spilling over the threshold.
Voices murmur beneath sleep,
weave a sky dense with memory.
Once a poet read lines so beautiful
I knew I could follow her down
the hardest road without faltering.
My feet grew tired, but I remembered my name.
Causes Lisa Majaj Supports
Playgrounds for Palestine
Middle East Children's Alliance
Princess Basma Center for Disabled Children
RAWI: Radius of Arab American...