We’re proud to announce that this week’s post comes to us all the way from Queens, New York native, Audrey Dimola. At first glance, Audrey’s poetry may seem intimidating, its complexity daunting but its beauty obvious.
Every piece of punctuation, every space and line break is painstakingly chosen to add greater depth to her onslaught of vivid images and demands that we read every line twice and ponder its meaning a third.
if you can’t move, let the breath move..
if you can’t be the ship, be the oar.
if you can’t be the oar, be the compass.
if you can’t be the compass, be the slightest stirring
in the voyager’s heart that told him –
i will not waste this day like all the others.
if you can’t be the voyager, be the faintest flickering
of the arrow magnetized towards whatever is greater –
whatever you can see in that last moment,
with your eyes widened and the water in your lungs –
that suddenly makes you forget how to drown.
the smallest movement matters.
one shift toward home is precious,
even if you’re dragging yourself there –
hand over hand, finger over finger,
chipped and bloody – stunned senseless
from the sheer force of your forgetting.
don’t you remember? – reading, writing:
“there is a light that never goes out.”
there is a piece of you that cannot forget
the first bloom of god on man’s tongue
acknowledging himself, too, as infinite.
be courageous in your darkness.
the beginning of becoming took shape
with one pure cry to heaven,
open your mouth and you
will find the words.