the likeness of a parrot repeats, choking on bone in my throat
mirroring rehearsals of a blind genocide
the patterns of intention
seemingly proud, conscious, and placing one foot in front of the other
patterns of disaster
yet so hopeful, with a tenderness that defies reality
you saw how frustration built that mob
anger of helpless hands that could not build an empire
or make a house payment on time
the powerless squirm when fear lights their bellies
taking the darkness and squeezing it into quarantine
injecting that isolated threat
into something more vulnerable
someone more helpless
than myself
the helpless have always carried the darkness for the mob of sleepers
and yet it is our job to reflect
we are all mirrors for one another
our faces the reflection of our brains
trusting us to use one another
to reflect back light
not to absorb our darkness
the parrot wakes up screeching, its garbled words decoded
by the electricity that runs up and down my bones
jolted into consciousness
seeing himself in another and still not closing his eyes
embracing his face in the face of another
and not retracting in fear, denial, pain, anger
vomiting darkness
terror dripping from the tips of his wings
no longer
the vulnerable, our minorities, our mirrors
need not fear again
they have permission
to see their own shadows in any of our faces
all human, all reflectors, all alchemists
we all have that power
transformers of darkness into light
