in the moments
when your vomit rises to your teeth
and your eyes clang against the back of your head
and chunks of your lips fly off
when the rage thundering in your chest
cannot be softened
without violently leaning
over the edge in this newly tilted universe
when the madness of birthing death
crawls inside your sacral space
and sprawls its vulgar legs across your insides
when the letters in the alphabet
rearrange themselves to spell “fuck you”
in every word you read
when the world heaves your sorrow
back in your face
and the collective voice around you says
“never mind, this is too much” —
that is when you speak.
that is when you must speak.
that is when you invite
the agony of your love to breathe freely,
to enter the bloodstream of those around you–
the weary will have their scar tissue
and the rest just don’t matter.
because this kind of thing cannot be honored quietly.
speak, and speak your child’s name loudly.
I swear it will return to you just as loudly
in sweet consonants and bellowing vowels
that form the immovable
sound of love.