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Vol. I, No. VIPoetryMorgan Collado

The Chapbook

I

  • grief
  • survival

IDon’t knowWhat it is likeTo die butIKnowWhat it is likeTo live withGrace

My hand tremblesAs I hold this bloodSoaked penBlood like riversFlow from the tipOf my shoresShoring upThe weakParts of selfIRemember my sistersCradle them in my palmBetween lines and fingersCharting the courseThrough which IBlazeLike life

IAmStill aliveDespite statisticsMy body crossedWith intersections of deathLivingLife

They will notClaim meTodayWill notFindMy body strewnLike so much offalAcross the pavementWill notMark the wayI moveFor deathIMean to surviveTo live, loveAnd thriveIMean to showEveryoneWhat it is likeTo hustleIn a brown trans bodyIMean to materializeA lifeThat isAbundantlyFull of familiaLoveComfortThe softness thatGoddess hasTo offer

Idon’t needTo assimilatedon’t needYour “marriage equality”Your white picket fence2.5 childrenI don’t needYour lie

BecauseI want justiceJustice for my sistersJustice for myselfJustice for all of the peopleMarginalized by lifeJustice that does not involvePolice brutalityI want to bringMy ancestors backFrom the deadAnd raze this worldTo the groundSo that it canRise anewLike a PhoenixReborn

IPlan to keepDrawing breathIKnow how quickLife can goBlinkAnd you missIt.BlinkAnd you’re deadBut until thenI will feelMy heart pumpVitality to limbsMy lungs breatheJoy to heartMy mind thinkingSpirit to lifeIAmAliveAnd I amGonnaLive itUp

About this poem

First published on A Trip to the Morg in .

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