You are not alone;
you don’t need Likes to be known
(again, how facile. Using social media data to understand where home
is. How little you understand my people.)
Open the door, and you worry that there is nothing standing before you; everyone is gone.
There is no rhyme that can take the place of what has been loaned
out from others, as respect, and pride, and a sense that freedom is made from parts
that, to begin with,
were never whole.
You have the strength of the entire universe behind you, krensa giliang:
everything that has been reaped was once sown;
and you have made a name for yourself, between here and the point where no man-woman has flown
before, and no one else may yet ever know
even exists. You opened the door
and everything is distributed. Everything is made to insist
that this is real. This is who you can be. Who you have always been.
This is what you made for yourself,
each and every day you said I will honour who I am, and what I stand for:
those five corroded stars, and that moon.
That sun deep within.
That ever-growing, ever-disappearing destiny.
Step through the Gate, little Sejetra.
Words and worlds alike are calling.
The days and nights are still burning.
Let you, and I, once more,
introduce history.