diaspora pasefika

By Sofi Fuatino

i am so
lonely. the ocean leaks
from my eyes, my body heaving
as if waves tug at me. the cries shake
me from the sweet, dark space of sleep, snaring
around my torso. it hollows me. i am a sea shell
on the shore,
ocean crashing
over me, wind whipping
through the space in my chest. i
cling to the familiarity of the shore
and yet the tide’s siren call is never gone for
long.

i love them both.
in this love, sometimes i
hate myself.

where are you, sister?
why can’t i see you, brother?
where do you all hide?

or am i really alone out here?

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