Fallen Upon Tears

By Forhad Rahman

I ache

 

blisters popping, pus dripping

the cuts on my toes grind

along the dusty ground

littered with the bodies

of my brothers

with bullet holes

in their backs

 

I ache

 

as clumps of my hair

like gristly tumbleweeds

crumples from the slightest breeze

 

as my single burlap sack

of patched clothes

and a wooden pot from my great-grandmother

becomes too heavy

for my straw thin arms to bear

 

as I see my Blossom

struggle to stay

on her own swollen feet

her belly grotesquely bulged

 

as these demons

their privilege carried on sticks

pressed our hickory bodies

forward into the dust

 

we move further from home

our warm sun replaced

with a cold, gray one

that freezes over the blood stuck below our toes

 

I ache

 

on this trail

of execution

to which I see no end

where my words do not reach.

 

Forhad Rahman is a Bronx-based writer and photographer. He has been published in journals such as Cherry Tree, The Bronx Magazine, and Bronx Narratives.