seven people stand at the scene of a crime,

fifteen bouquets marking the spot.

fragrant jasmine, یاسمین , चमेली.

bloody fingers woven through wire fences,

little girls threading braids.

this place will knit us together.

a child slips his last sweet to a stranger.

mamusia’s words softening his ears,

“everyone is also you.”

see, love was meant to line our words,

seep from our hands,

our hearts, 眼睛, kàn.

hand near hand on the evening bus.

desperation scratches at connection,

animals clawing for meaning.

someone convinced us that you and i were not one.

who were they to draw that line in the sand —

to say this is my body, and that is yours?

they tried to teach me to be scared of you,

and they’re begging you to hate me.

don’t they know that every eye is a mirror?

newsroom towers and well tailored suits,

“those people eat their young.”

spitting their fear through polished teeth.

well, let them come and see,

our sun rising over blood-red hills,

bathing the whole world in gold.

glossary:

चमेली (chameli)/ یاسمین) yasmeen) – jasmine (hindi / arabic)

mamusia (mamoosha) – mum (polish, affectionate)

眼睛 (yanjin) – eyes (mandarin chinese)

kàn (okun) – heart and soul (yoruba)