I slip on mud and fall flat on my back

 

I call out to You and it takes you a minute to understand me

 

Before you turn and reach out Your hand

 

 

 

 

I like to pretend that my body still knows how to speak Your words I catch myself repeating them over again

even though i can hardly get them out

 

even though i nearly forget

 

even though it hurts

 

even though my tongue slips on mud almost dried on the roof of my mouth

 

 

 

 

But I pick it up and repeat Them again

 

 

 

 

This I won’t let turn to brick

 

So I’ll scrape and scrape away until that mauve flesh erodes into craters like the moon’s

               and stitch it back up with earth toned lining

 

Until I can freely speak Your stories

 

Their stories

 

My stories                     Our story

 

 

 

 

 

Because This I won’t let turn to brick

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Shirley Aparicio, she/they, is a poet, and fellow at Sadie Nash. Her work focuses on themes of decolonization, (re)connection to indigeneity, self, other, and Earth through rage and joy. @aparicions