there are parts
of our hurt
we hold.
until
we don’t know
how
to let go.
a quiet ache.
we come.
to love.
// hudson biko
Author: Biko
gaze
i am softest
when
i am
(al)one
with
the moon
and the sky
// hudson biko
melt
feel.
the whisper
of the wind.
and the splatter
of the sea.
touch.
the flutter
of the wings.
or the scatter
of the song.
witness.
the sky
as it breaks.
for days
on end.
take in.
all
of the ways.
the earth feels.
and ache
© Hudson Biko
the room with the red walls
cover the rooms
in scars.
leave your sadness
on the mirrors.
paint
the walls
in crimson.
swallow your
h(u/ea)rt
whole
presenting my second chapbook, the room with the red walls:
a few excerpts:
we were sitting
on the dinner table.
listening to the songs.
the words
wove
off the curve
of the glass.
the sun was low.
the room
was bright.
the shatter
was quiet
//
it was summer
there is a way
the sky
sheds
its grief
that
i
am longing for
//
set
do you listen
to the stories
and believe
in their endings.
in the suns
that set.
and the moons
that rise.
and the stars
that shine.
because
it is so dark
//
hope
missed you all. missed this. deeply.
© Hudson Biko. 2021. All Rights Reserved.
–
bubbling
quiet seas
at high tides.
rocky shores
for sidewalks.
waves that
break
at stratums
of pulsing veins.
listen
to the ache
for a feeling
never
seen.
touch
the fear
that
rumbles
between
© Hudson Biko
