Shimoni & Rabai

In a wooden wet cell

In a wooden wet boat

His cracked soles tapped nervously

Covered by a blinding cruel white

He didn’t know what lay ahead

But he longed for what he’d left behind

What he was forced to leave

Fear engulfed his anger

Pain from the lines on his back reminded him he was alive

Even though every corner of this felt like death.

He opened his eyes and slowly looked around the white blanket

There they were

Two eyes

Alive and scared, just like his

They were right next to him but for hours they hid

With every blink he could hear her breathe

Air draped in anger that was too afraid to speak

His hands reached out for hers

His black recognized hers

Her fingers tapped lightly on his,

to the rhythm of his feet tapping the wooden floor,

to the rhythm of his fear.

They swam in white so we would drown in black

If you’re still, you will hear them in you

If your eyes remain open as you sleep, you will see them

With parted lips and open ears, you will hear them speak

You will ask them about your anchors

They will tell you tales of places that have been quenched by your blood

By your sweat.

They will ask if their trip of fear freed you

It feels like you’ve known them before birth

Like they’ve lived in you, built a home

It feels like you recognize their names

Shimoni and Rabai

It feels like they were once you, and you, them.