When the Children Unlearn the Map
One day the children
will forget the names we gave to borders
they will run barefoot
until the earth forget its edges
and in their pockets--
chalks, seeds, a small republic of insects
they will redraw the walls
as doors left ajar
they will press their ears
against the silence of guns
and hear only rust
they will bury our iron
deep enough for roots to argue with it
watch them--
how they speak fluently with stray dogs
with wind, with unfinished afternoons
how they refuse inheritance
of fear
how they say: this sky is indivisible
and mean it
one day
they will return our cities to rivers
our languages to touch
and everything we built to divide
they will make briefly useful
like a toy
left in the rain
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