Poetry, Jordan Nishkian
Murmuration
In the silence of what's left
my heart calls forth
a murmuration
of nerves, muscles, bones
that carry me—
bypassing sharpened tongue
and a voice hot with ire—
lifting me
light as a feather
light as a feather
light as a feather
light s a feat er
li ht s a feat r
li ht s a fe t r
li t s fe r
li s fe r
li fe
i
It'll Be Different This Time
We share a history
of watching sitcom repeats,
of hearing a song loop into itself,
of rewearing old fashions until
it's time to discard them from damage.
It's hard to know when things are done,
except when we meet them again, re-done.
We share a search history:
one that auto-fills common trends, news, damage
—click, refresh, repeat—
we don't go past the first page, we scroll until
the answer we want reveals itself,
shows itself, proves itself
a part of the library of convenience—the search is done.
How long until
knowledge isn't coterminous with wisdom? Till history
books are revised without fear? Repeat
these words: We must overcome our damage,
not hide our damage,
lest oppression unveils itself
(once again) in the repeats
of evils already done.
Our history
consists more of repetition than revolution. Until
we accept each other, until
we embrace true change,
we are bound to a history
of violence, a human race ending itself—
What have we done?
It repeats
repeats, repeats,
repeats until
it's all finished, too far gone, done.
Damage
wears a cunning disguise. It hides itself
deep inside a malevolent history,
a history that repeats
itself until
the damage is done.
Jordan Nishkian is an Armenian-Portuguese writer based in California. Her prose and poetry explore themes of duality and have been featured in national and international publications. She is the Editor-in-Chief of Mythos literary magazine and author of Kindred, a novella. Check out her website wordsbyjordan.com