Diaspora by Faith Holsaert


“Diaspora” by Faith Holsaert


             Our inheritance in the Diaspora is to live in this inexplicable space–Dionne Brand

if there was a curtain we didn’t notice
if there was something other than raspberries
among dusty leaves we didn’t see

we saw how the path wound up from the creek
we knew we had to carry
we knew the old man in the next town
we knew our coats smelled of pear
and our cat, we knew our cat

Maybe the portal was there all along
when we ate ramen and watched TV
             not talking              spent
             after we had danced

we are past the curtained gateway
have passed through the membrane
this end has lost the other end

we live where our memories can not
except as clearwings in their brief season
this is an inexplicable place

we had to leave our bundled words behind

the new discount words
               do not fit like our own
can someone teach us to live here

an exile is not                                  a guided tour
the others we think                        are tourists

we grew on a soil
that fed the eyes of potatoes
that received our offered berries

Do not say we are
this place where we have fallen


[diaspora, accepted by potomac review (spring 2017) ]


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Author: A Room of Her Own

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