My hand opening shutting letting go and Recoiling I whisper to the air between us: Those are the tremors that remain the involuntary dancing for a deferred promise the body curdling its own – my body whose difference is no longer different but a patterned mould for the same for the refugee after for the refugee before for the face to become a trap A borne scandal – for the hastening crowds to cast a glance The projection of my voice from a safe distance to the guttural thoughts in my head Gait, for you, to measure the body in motion To standardise the pain of fleeing of bodies falling into one For me, the gate that is slammed shut in my face A thwarted escape from place to place An imaginary gate cut out of dreams Of what will never be so on and so forth I wait at the threshold It is time to remember that in the shade of waiting, seeing grows I walked to come to you in my other’s absence on earth the my as difference as an attached pronoun steadying a tilting frame I know that what I say is a minor detail in your eyes My broken veins as collateral damage A sign of a former life 44