Kamau told me in a poem once,
that there is an infinity
between two fixed points.
Maybe between my hands,
and your hands,
we’ll get someplace better. So much becomes
possible when we are gathered.
So much blooms
from the lands where our grandmothers
taught us how to love.

Here, could you help me hold
my anger for just a minute?
The pain has amassed in my back
for so long; I haven’t been sleeping
nights. Is it the bed or the broken
promises?
As long as you tell me
you’ll love me tomorrow, I know
I can keep going.

May we start
and end every poem remembering
how much there is left
to be done, and may each poem
free us from the discipline
of worry. May we not chide our bodies
for keeping us alive. May the coffee
be just strong enough
to restore us each morning. May we slow down
long enough to leave the pain
of this world behind.

Jettison cargo.
So much exists beyond
the horrors of sight.

After all these years, I am still grateful
for the miracle of flight.

Invocation // Liner Notes for a New World was originally published in The Yale Herald on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.