Hilum Drops
Gianna Christella Hayes
Capsules of hope.
carried,
braided,
sown.
Black-eyed bloom,
Black bloom.
Water,
The first ancestor.
The memory keeper.
The tide that remembers.
holding us
separating us,
connecting us.
I am,
a keeper of growth.
I return.
To the whispers.
To the names I do not yet know, but feel.
To the land I have never walked, but ache for.
To the hands unearthing buried lineages.
I am,
the seed.
I am,
the spell.
I remember.
Even when I’ve been told to forget.
