And in those last moments,
I hope that he knew,
that his tears
would fall on our eyes too.
When your skin weighs heavy like a death
sentence,
and your garments morph into a shroud,
when passed away becomes too soft of a phrase
to describe
how loud
knee dug
into neck,
bones cracked
to the left,
blood fled
out of flesh,
life crashed
into death.
On the days where your skin feels like excess
baggage fees,
like an unfinished fight,
like a walking corpse,
on those days, I want you to know that
all they see is the darkness in your light,
and shame on them, for missing out
on the celestial beauty of the night,
you shooting star,
you supernova,
your death
only brings us more life.
So we take your gravestones out of the
graveyards
and place it on our placards,
place it in our tongues, in our breaths, in our
strides.
And in those last moments,
I hope that they knew,
that although their lives may be stripped from
them,
we won’t let their names be hijacked too.
Sagal Gabay 