FOR MY BABY SISTER RACHEL, NOW MY ANCESTOR
to Rachel, my little sister, who passed on July 19, 2024
you left
the room of your life
on tiptoes
discreetly
in the midst of a genocide
where does the pain
of too much death
go ?
are there blueprints
for dealing with
a spillover
of Blues ?
they will cremate
you
my little sister
but how
is the mourning
you leave behind
incinerated
and
in what urn ?
(c) Julia Wright. August 2nd, 2024. All Rights.
IN THE ABSENCE OF FLOWERS
in the absence of flowers
laid
weeds are growing
on Mutulu Shakur’s grave
you told us,
Brother Jihad
maybe
just as there is
beauty in the broken
just as there is no such thing
as emptiness
or absence,
there is ancient wisdom
in the same weeds
that save the children in Gaza
from death
and
whose ancestral properties
are known to wounded healers
yesterday
i visited my mother’s faraway grave
for the first time
in so long
and found wild strawberry leaves
thriving
near the weathered stone
Mother Earth feeds
and
takes care of our Ancestors
while
as we fight elsewhere
for those who can still be saved
we leave our dead
temporarily alone
(c) Julia Wright. August 7th 2024. All Rights
A SUNRISE ELEGY TO MY SISTER RACHEL
For Rachel Wright, my baby sister who passed on July 19th 2024
climbing high
above the trees’ canopies
the first sun rays
replace
the wavering flames
of candles –
your vigils,
little Rachel,
your soul-guards
throughout the night
gently dancing
sunbeams
reach your
now stilled photographed face
and for a long moment
bring it back to eloquent life
giving it your true Queen Nefertiti beauty,
illuminating
your perennial gaze
with a daybreak to daybreak promise
of Liberation and Light
(c) Julia Wright. August 9th 2024. All Rights
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