Like catching water before it’s been blessed
no less holy, no less sacred;
Would a certificate change a thing? Or
has all of this land always been
stolen? Sneakers pounding the soil, soreness so sweet
and so ancient, this movement, this fire to
ignite a storm, a deluge of transient
pigeons, all fleeing the city in unison
What do they know that we do not?
the hurried fear, a deep bright wisdom
in thick droplets whipping my cheeks, as
I stare up at the world from this well, this
whirlpool of ideas that feel like my own,
a sacrament stolen nevertheless