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.