Saturday’s Children

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What becomes of the child drawn to the sun’s thread

connecting the laughter of seagulls

to the jaundiced muffled indiscriminate burgeonings

craving yet carving through absent urban centers?

I am gender-free today

and polytheological.  Adaptable to

each revolution of speech through

water born of water of water.

We are multiple mysticals threading tides

unwoven by the self-asphyxiation conquers inspire.

What becomes to child born to every Saturday

wanderlust

still undead to the maternal arms of

humanity?

With the snow of golden fennel seeds laying silent.

With the tears and blood of ambience engaging our stomachs

nearly a hemisphere away.

We hunger and celebrate, as well.

For your victory.

I write.

this.

For the Egyptian People

Feb. 11. 2010

Elizabeth Mariani

Vancouver, British Columbia

Tags: activism, arab, gender, Revolution