“…we have always been the duppy we fear.”
— Madwoman: poems, Shara McCallum
In the short border of dusk, and then dawn,
people don’t want to see it for its own truth
or their own truth or truth at all.
Mirrors, selfies, cousins, glossy self-help pages,
plain as the skin and veins on their hands.
You stand wondering why they can’t all
understand when you don’t know
you don’t understand yourself.
It’s like raking leaves every day
when you don’t even have trees,
your back to your neighbor’s grove