Kyla Pasha | Poetry

Will you still persist, axe to your own
throat, standing on the front lines?
I love your body, don’t you love your body?
And all the dead rebound off
the ground, and say, “Tell her to
stop, Kyla, tell her to come live
on this side of the line, where there is
sparse shelling and time for tea between.
Tell her the world is made for dirt and water
which take care of their own – they take
care of their own in the end. No holding
the world, tell her, no carrying it on
your shoulders like that’s what it means
to be strong.” I was on the field, my love,
when they said, “Tell her
it’s her that has gravity, she already
calls the earth to her knees.”