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Poems

Gatekeepers

With its perpetual gatekeepers
Self-championing
Panicked by sights
Of difference
Their flat affect
Flummoxed breathing
Pens clawing at writing pads
Frantic, mad inspectors

“Cannot be allowed”
Are you looking?
Gasp
Writing pads jerked
Closer to their hollowed out chests
Exposed internal organs
Glossy and dripping
With no beat
Their notes top secret
They presume

The results are in
Your irregular corners
Were not assembly-lined
The blemishes are here
Here and there and there
Foundation built on strange earth
Alien
This just cannot be allowed

And yet my results are also in
Strike normativity
Push this sick monoculture
Reshape its edges
Until it is unsightly
Enough to allow all shapes
And hold it open
Until the gatekeepers
Rigid antiquated beasts
Melt
Like wicked witches

Categories
Poems

“To my friends…”

I know you, friend,
I recognize my self in you,
Your countenance a canvas of your heart,
Or a parchment with ink bright red,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me,
Respect, dignity, and solidarity our shared language,
You have my gratitude.

It is so difficult to find you,
A necessity,
If it was so easy,
Then they would find us,
With their language of conformity and violence,
Copy-cats of blind majority,
Bent on propagating and steering,
We recognize the steps of their dance,
From a mile away,
We try to steer clear,
But sometimes our shared language,
Calls on us to act.

To the scoundrels,
I know you,
I recognize my self in you,
But that was an old self,
I left it behind long ago,
A fossil,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would hurt me,
For entertainment,
Or derived righteousness,
Humanity’s parroting scoundrel.

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Author’s note: I dedicate this poem to Sarah Hegazi (Rest in Power), a queer feminist activist from Egypt who recently passed away while seeking asylum here, in Canada, and to all who are navigating and surviving cruelness and systemic injustice.