ser espíritu, ser memoria, ser humane – be it all

by ANAIS GOMEZ

Vincent Hunter, For Onyx, For Vigi, 2018

slender limbs of  ivy,
thorns of roses in her throat condemned
her hands to tending gardens.
eyes cradled secrets of the stars.
her cheeks kissed by un  rey enlocao.
vines interlocked with  hair and followed the dance of butterflies, 
             A saccharine lull, sings the hummingbird.

the first  i heard was that you could help anyone (who are you waiting for?)      
             if
you dug past the thorns (i wonder how far you have to go?).
            and
uncovered relics to reimagine histories since lost.
                                    So you reach for pieces of your heart.  

the light sought the color of your eyes, and
between the colors I saw the mirror.
            bordering you, myself and the light –
multitudes since reflected.
fragmented images and disfigured faces,
deep obsidian pooled tears steadily,
             steadily,
                         steadily
into the mouth of the abyss.
the base split open a ravine, my clavicle the mouth of the falls,
tears from eyes since closed,
            steadily eroding,
                         steadily deepening.
a projection of forces both within and beyond me were clear,
a mirror forged by fire. 
sounds of people, places and things far from me.
                                    shadows of things, places and people too near.

what is mine? what is theirs?
within it all, the contradictions became clear, and the ravine howled, 
            who do you stand in the way of?

a dance at my chest,
your composure calm and demeanor betrayed nothing.

i pull at the pieces of your heart and yearn for your likeness in the dark,
i feel
a world where we had everything.
we were different, yet
            conjoined by magnetism of deep obsidian. 

i
saw
the cut flowers you’ve kept alive for years
             (what do the flowers hold true for you?),

heard
the call of the ocean in the winter
           (by what name does it summon you?),
felt
the pressure of the night sky
(why do the stars force themselves upon you?).

you wanted to rip out the flesh of my heart if it meant the pieces would be returned to you. So you did.

            you, the shadow casted,
stalking closely in the night,
and I, what settled after it,
           morose and sobering.
wounds forsaken by memory.
relics of injury and love forgone.
true intentions gave way.
You, the morning,
I, the sky’s celestial beast.

leave the door ajar,
            let us discover our likeness and surmount the divide.

the sliver of light in search of
            eyes reanimated by belief,
observations of sonder.
            yearning relinquishes solitude,
along with the freedom of release.

Release!

the red threads of fate spun by the tragedies that
             conjoin progenitor and progeny. 
she beckons from the depths of the ravine, dive and     

Release!  


Anaís Gómez is a writer and dancer based in Brooklyn, New York. They received her BA from New York University. Their writing and dance practice is informed by their mixed Dominican background and familial Afro-Dominican spiritual practices. Their practice explores how Spirit and body relate with one another and then the world. They have performed at Baby’s All Right and have been published in BOMB Magazine.
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